Downton Academy: A Sequel
by chelsie fan
Summary: Follow-up to Downton Academy. Modern AU. Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes are the newly engaged headmaster and headmistress of Downton Academy, a private school founded and owned by Robert Crawley. Now that our favorite characters have finally gotten together, what's in store? Engagement, wedding, honeymoon, and beyond!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Here's the sequel to Downton Academy – finally. (If you're new to this story, you should probably read the prequel and the main story before you read this sequel.) I know it's been a long time coming. Real life has kept me busy, and this chapter has given me fits.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews to the last chapter of the main story. I'm grateful for your support. Thank you also to all of you who have asked about this story and how it's been going. I sincerely appreciate your interest and encouragement. Your gentle nudges provide the prodding I need to keep going.**

 **Since it's been so long, I'll provide just a quick reminder of our current status. Our happy couple have been engaged since Christmas and have set their wedding date for June 11. They've had a nice New Year's Eve/engagement party at the Crawley's place, and that's where we left them. We'll check in on them now at the end of January. Charles reveals a deep, dark secret, and there's probably an overload of smooching here.**

 _Saturday, January 30, 2016_

"Thank you for taking me to the Burns Supper* tonight," said Elsie as Charles walked her to her door. "I had a marvelous time. And you're a darling to have endured it on my account," she said.

He kissed her hand. "It was my pleasure. You know I'd do anything to make you smile like that."

"Will you wear a kilt next year?" she teased.

"Anything _within reason_ , my dear," he amended. "I might manage to choke down some haggis, and I might be willing to give the dancing another go, but I'm not sure I'd like to show off my legs to half of Chicago."

"I'm sure they're very nice legs," flirted Elsie.

"Right. Well." Charles cleared his throat and changed the subject. "I do think _your_ little party in the dining hall on Monday night was even nicer," he said, referring to the Burns Night celebration Elsie had orchestrated and implemented with her students.

"Well, thank you. Ours was on a much smaller scale and a lower budget than tonight's grand fête, of course, but I think it turned out rather well. The students made a real effort with the decorations and the readings. Beryl's food was completely authentic, and I can't believe William found us a piper!"

They arrived at her door, and she dug around in her purse for her keys.

"It was a lovely affair," he agreed. "I will admit, though … I had tremendous difficulty paying attention to poetry or music or decorations or food, as I was distracted by the mistress of ceremonies. _Enchanted_ , in fact." And before she managed to locate and retrieve her keys, he took her face gently between his large hands and kissed her.

"Mmm … " she hummed against his lips. "This is very nice, Charles, but it's cold out here. Would you like to come in? I know it's late, but I could make us some tea."

"Maybe just for a few minutes."

Elsie let them inside, and Charles hung their overcoats in the front closet while she headed off to the kitchen to make tea. He unknotted his bow tie, letting it hang loosely around his neck, and unfastened the button on his shirt collar. Soon, he joined her in the kitchen and approached her as she stood at the stove, sliding his arms around her waist and clasping them at her stomach.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked while nuzzling the side of her neck.

She rested her hands on top of his and leaned back against his chest. "What you're doing right now is not _helping_ at all, but I won't ask you to stop," she told him.

But he _did_ stop when the kettle whistled.

"Just let me get that," she breathed raggedly, "and then I'll give you my full attention."

"I do so love your attentions," he observed as he drew away reluctantly.

As Elsie set the tea to steep, Charles continued, "Elsie, I have a confession to make. There's something I think you should know, now that we're going to be married."

She furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes. "Yes, Charles? What is it?"

"I don't really care for tea," he admitted sheepishly.

"What?!" she cried, utterly shocked. "But you drink it all the time! We have tea every afternoon at school, and you always have a cup during a meeting or after a meal."

"I _drink_ it, but I don't _like_ it."

"They _why do_ you drink it?"

"Well … " Charles hesitated. "You see, I'm English. I feel like I _should_. No self-respecting Englishman spurns tea. It's a matter of pride!"

Elsie spluttered with laughter. "Charles Carson, that is the most preposterous thing I've ever heard! I'm not sure whether I find it endearing or exasperating." She swatted at him playfully.

He grasped her by the arms, pulled her flush against him, and kissed her. "Endearing. You should most definitely find me endearing."

"I _do_ find you endearing, darling," she assured him, kissing his chin, "but I find you exasperating in equal measure."

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" he worried.

"Your secret is safe with me."

"The only other person who ever knew was Alice."

"And what did she say about it?"

"She told me it was silly," said Charles, "but she indulged me."

"And so shall I," Elsie promised with a kiss.

"So you won't mind if I forgo when we're alone? You won't think me rude for declining?"

"Of course not!" she said, soothing him. "But you could have just told me – _long ago_ – and saved yourself the trouble of pretending, at least when it was just the two of us."

"I was embarrassed," he confessed. "I was afraid you might think me ridiculous."

"I _do_ think you ridiculous – _sometimes_ … but I love you." She tapped his nose with her index finger. "And for the record, my darling man … your aversion to tea in no way diminishes your English nature. You are the most _quintessentially English_ Englishman I've ever known!" Tugging on the loose ends of his bow tie, she pulled his head down and gave him a sweet kiss.

When the tea had finished steeping, Elsie prepared a cup for herself. Then she and Charles retired to the couch in her sitting room. For a few minutes, they chatted about this and that, and then a comfortable silence descended during which they simply sat nestled warmly together. Soon, however, idle hands and mouths grew restless, and the pair found themselves kissing and caressing.

Elsie's dress, though perfectly respectable, displayed an ample amount of her upper chest and shoulders, and Charles took advantage of that fact. Encouraging her to tip her chin up and tilt her head back, he drew an imaginary line along her throat and collarbones with his forefinger and traced along the invisible path with the tip of his tongue. He nipped lightly at her shoulder before working his way up the side of her neck and delicately nibbling her ear. While his lips kissed every bit of exposed skin from her shoulders up, his hands roamed urgently over her back, sides, and hips, and he struggled mightily to keep those lips and hands from straying into other, more tempting regions. She smelled so inviting … felt so soft and warm … made the most alluring little noises. It had been so long since Alice died that Charles had almost forgotten what it felt like to be this close to a woman; but Elsie's present proximity reminded him acutely what it felt like to be a man.

For her part, Elsie was equally keenly affected by their intimacy. It had been twenty-five years since she lost Joe, and during that entire time, she hadn't even kissed another man until last month, when Charles had made known his feelings. Until recently, she could hardly remember what it had felt like to be desired … and to desire someone else. But now, after so long, here she was again, loving and being loved, wanting and being wanted; and it felt wonderful. While Charles continued to cosset her with his tender ministrations, she reciprocated his devotions. She scratched lightly at the nape of his neck with the fingernails of one hand. Her other hand rested in the center of his chest, and her fingers trifled with the shirt button at his neck. She stroked his neck, which was enticingly exposed thanks to his open collar, and tickled the spot where a few sparse hairs peeked over the top of his undershirt. All the while, he whispered sweet nothings in her ear, and his deep, rumbling voice and warm breath nearly drove her mad.

Presently, Charles began to fear he was in grave danger of losing all control and all good sense. He eased himself away from Elsie slightly but rested his hands on her shoulders and his forehead against hers. Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, he gathered his thoughts. He'd known that they'd have to have this talk sooner or later, and it seemed the time had come.

"Elsie," said Charles with a pained, pleading expression. "When we were choosing a date for the wedding and I said I wanted it to be soon, I wasn't joking. There's more than one reason I was – still _am_ – eager to marry you quickly. You know that I love you – that I'm _in love_ with you. And God help me, there's nothing I'd like better right now than to _make love_ to you. I'd like nothing more than to carry you off to the bedroom this very instant and have my way with you. But … " His words trailed off, and he threw his head back helplessly. He wasn't sure how to explain himself.

In his previous ponderings, he'd composed a whole litany of valid reasons why they shouldn't and couldn't be physically intimate yet: he respected her and would never compromise her in such a way; he wanted their wedding night to be something special; if they _did_ sleep together now, he could never sit in church tomorrow morning and face Reverend Travis and all their colleagues and students; he'd never be able look Peter in the eye again if he behaved less than honorably toward the lad's mother; and perhaps most basically, he was simply old-fashioned and wanted to do the right thing.

There were also practical considerations: they lived in a fishbowl on the campus of Downton and should never be seen entering and leaving each other's flat at all hours of the day and night; because of their positions, they needed to remain beyond reproach; a nasty scandal would ensue if they were ever caught behaving inappropriately.

Though his reasons were perfectly sound, he couldn't manage to voice any of them. He didn't know where to begin and was afraid he'd sound ridiculous. Fortunately, he didn't need to justify himself. As always, Elsie understood him perfectly. As Charles struggled to continue, she pressed her finger to his lips to silence him.

" _But_ … " she said, picking up where he'd left off, "we'll wait. You needn't try to explain; I think I can guess at your reasoning. And you should know … I share your concerns. We're in agreement on this, Charles. You can breathe again now."

"Oh, thank God." He released a substantial sigh and a great deal of tension along with it. Taking her face in his hands, he said, "I have never loved you more than I do at this very moment." He then emphasized that sentiment with an earnest kiss.

"You weren't actually worried, were you? Did you truly think I'd feel differently? Or that I wouldn't honor your wishes even if I _did_ feel differently?"

"No! Of course not! But I couldn't be _completely_ certain, and I didn't want to presume anything. Remember: I've been married before. I know only too well the trouble a man can get himself into if he presumes too much."

She couldn't help but chuckle fondly. "You're a wise man, my dear. But you're right. We've _both_ been married before, and we're experienced enough to know that the bedroom activities are only a very small part of the much larger picture of marriage."

"Perhaps … But a very _enjoyable_ part!" he was quick to remind her.

She grinned and shook her head. "Daft man!"

"I _was_ worried, you know," he admitted, now turning serious. "I feared that if I were _too forward_ with you, you'd be offended. And at the same time, I feared that if I weren't … well, _fervent enough_ , you'd think I didn't find you attractive."

She repeated his actions and his words from moments ago, laying her hands on his cheeks and kissing him. "And _I_ have never loved _you_ more than I do right now."

Within seconds, they found themselves in the same predicament, kissing ardently in a heated embrace. This time it was Elsie who pulled back grudgingly.

"I'm beginning to doubt the wisdom of waiting until June to be married. I should have listened to you. What was I thinking? How will we ever last for four and half more months?" she asked, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. Then she looked back up at him. "Do you suppose we can move the date sooner?"

He eyed her in mild disbelief. "You can't mean that! Would _you_ like to be the one to explain to everyone that we need to be married immediately because we can't keep our hands off each other?"

"No, of course not."

"All of your original reasons for waiting still hold," he pointed out. "We _do_ need time to plan the wedding, to find a house, to move our things, to have a honeymoon, and to settle in."

She sighed resignedly. "We'll just have to hold out until June, I suppose."

"I have some ideas."

"So have I. Plenty of … _ideas_ ," she joked wryly. "And not one of them is helpful! They'll only make things _more_ difficult."

"That's not what I meant," clarified Charles. "I meant ways to avoid tempting situations. During the week, we'll see each other in school, but there's not much danger of anything happening there in the middle of the day with so many people around. On Friday nights, I'll take you out. We should be pretty safe, more or less, in public places like theaters and restaurants. On Saturdays, we can look at houses and start packing and moving. And I think we should bring back game nights on Saturday nights. We can invite our friends, and that way we can be together without being _alone_ together. And on Sundays after services and brunch, we can stay at school. We can go to one of our offices or a conference room and work together. We'll both have lectures to prepare, exams to write, papers to mark, and grades to enter. Why shouldn't we do that together?"

"You've given this some thought," Elsie remarked.

"I have. We'll just need to keep ourselves busy, and that will keep us out of trouble."

"That does sound like a sensible plan," she agreed. "And The Field Museum has a traveling exhibit on ancient Greece.** Five hundred artifacts. The most comprehensive collection outside Greece itself. The exhibit will be at the museum until April. I'd like to go with you sometime."

"Since when do you have a burning interest in ancient scrolls and tools and pottery?" he teased.

"I never have, and I don't expect to develop one," she conceded. "But I _do_ have an avid desire to see your face light up like a child's on Christmas morning; and some old books and other remains from Greece are apt to have that effect on you."

"That's awfully sweet of you, love. Thank you. I'll look forward to it." He kissed her nose.

"Besides, I feel somewhat indebted to you now. I happen to know that you have no great affinity for haggis or bagpipe music, yet you tolerated both tonight for my sake."

"Truth be told, the Scotch whisky helped," he deadpanned.

"Aha!" exclaimed Elsie. "Now I know the secret to keeping you happy! A little bit of alcohol will get me whatever I want."

"No alcohol is necessary, love. If it's within my power to grant, you need only ask, and it shall be yours."

"Really? I need only ask?"

"Your wish is my command, madam," Charles stated seriously while kissing her hand.

"Hmmm … " Elsie pretended to consider. "There is one thing … "

"Name it."

"It's a simple request, really. I'd like a kiss from my man."

"Just one? I think I can manage that. What did you have in mind? A genteel kiss to the back of your hand? A little peck on your cheek? A fond smooch on your forehead?" He illustrated his words with the corresponding actions. "Or the fervent kiss of an ardent lover who longs to show his beloved how desperately smitten he is?"

"Oh, the last one – _please_ ," she whispered breathlessly, and he complied.

Moments later, having thoroughly convinced her of his ardent, smitten condition, he released her. "I hate to have to tear myself away," lamented Charles, "but if I don't leave now, your virtue and my honor will be in grave peril." He stood and went to the closet to get his coat, and Elsie followed.

"Only one hundred and thirty-two more days, darling," she informed him helpfully.

"That is one hundred and thirty-two days too many!" he complained as they made their way to the front door. He pulled on his coat and opened the door to let himself out.

"You'll text me when you get home?" she asked.

"Of course," he told her. "And you'll be sure to lock the door as soon as I leave?"

"I will," she promised. He kissed her good night and closed the door behind him.

Five seconds later, he knocked on the door, and she answered it, laughing. "Yes, Charles? What is it?"

"What are you doing, opening your door to a strange man at this hour of the night?" he admonished her.

"Do you need something," she asked, "or are you just being troublesome?"

"I _do_ need something." He grasped her by the hips and pulled her to him for one last kiss.

She humored him briefly before gently pushing him away. "Away with you, now!" she said, shutting the door on him once more.

Three seconds later, he knocked again. "Begone, you wily rascal! It's far too late for any _respectable_ gentleman to be calling on a lady!" she called without opening the door.

"I was just testing you. Good night, darling," he answered through the closed door.

"Pleasant dreams, love."

 **A/N * Every year, on January 25 or a date close to it, the Chicago Scots organization hosts a fancy Burns Supper at the Union League Club (the place mentioned in my previous story, where the faculty Christmas party was held; very swanky). I've posted pictures on my tumblr page. I thought it might be nice for Charles to take Elsie.**

 **** The traveling exhibit on ancient Greece really is at The Field Museum right now.**

 **Next chapter … Valentine's Day.**

 **You'd make me very happy if you'd be kind enough to leave me a review. Thanks in advance.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I'm sorry it's been so long between chapters. Real life has not been conducive to fic writing. But at least it's a long-ish chapter.**

 **Thank you so much for your tremendous encouragement. Your response to my first chapter has been very gratifying. And special appreciation goes out to several of you who have sent me messages asking how the chapter is coming along and kindly nudging me. Know that your gentle prodding helps tremendously.**

 **Shout-out to Reading Teacher, a regular, named guest reviewer to whom I can't respond personally. I see that you have an account on this site, but your PM feature must be disabled. If you'd like to enable your messaging system, I'd love to chat.**

 **Also, special message to Ibagoalie, another guest reviewer who left a review to the prequel and asked about the school in this story and whether a similar school actually exists. If you're reading this, Ibagoalie, there really is a school called "The British International School of Chicago." It's not quite as traditional as I've made Downton Academy out to be, but there is an actual British school in Chicago. Set up an account on this site and shoot me a message if you'd like to know more.**

 **Here we have Valentine's Day – and an overabundance of fluff and romance. Pure, unadulterated, gooey, drippy, sticky, sappy, soppy, sugary, syrupy fluff. You've been warned. After reading this chapter, brush your teeth so that they don't rot away from all the sugar contained herein.**

 _Sunday, February 14, 2016_

"Good morning, my love," said Charles when Elsie answered her door. He kissed her cheek. She had her coat on and was ready to go. "Happy Valentine's Day. I've got something for my sweetheart." He held out a small bouquet of brightly colored flowers: yellow tulips, orange lilies, and pink daisies, all offset with white baby's breath and some greenery.

"Thank you, Charles! You're a dear. They're lovely," replied Elsie, taking them from him and kissing his cheek in return. "Why don't you come inside while I put them in a vase with some water? I'll be just a moment."

Charles stepped inside and closed the door. While he waited for Elsie to take care of the flowers, he noticed another floral arrangement prominently displayed on the coffee table. Conjecturing that he knew its likely source, he peeked at the accompanying card. He smiled when he confirmed that it was, indeed, Peter who had sent it. Elsie returned a few minutes later with her newest flowers arranged neatly in a vase. After placing the vase on a side table, she scooped up her purse and keys and joined him.

"You look lovely, by the way," he told her. "That dress is very becoming." She wore a red dress that did, in fact, accentuate her figure quite nicely.

"Thank you. And I like your tie," she returned, referring to his red necktie, which she reached up and tweaked. "In keeping with the spirit and theme of the day."

"Why, thank you. I did think it appropriate. Ready?" he asked.

"All set," she confirmed. "Shall we?"

He offered his arm; she took it; and they headed to church.

The service was uneventful, and afterwards, they found themselves chatting with friends in the vestibule outside the school chapel. While Elsie talked with Beryl and Bill, Charles excused himself momentarily, telling Elsie that he needed to nip over to his office to get something and would be right back. Charles returned a few minutes later, and most of the crowd trickled off to brunch in the dining hall. Elsie and Charles found themselves alone, save a few stragglers.

"Now. What is this 'mystery date' you've planned for us?" Elsie asked. Charles had made it sound very intriguing on Friday when he asked Elsie to keep Sunday afternoon and evening free. She'd been curious all weekend.

"Well, madam, if you'll just come with me … " He extended his bent arm, and she tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.

She wondered why he was leading her towards their offices, but her burning curiosity was soon quelled when they entered the school's administrative suite. The lights were out in the reception area, and it was quiet, so she could see soft light and hear romantic music coming through her half-open door. She also detected a powerful fragrance of flowers.

"Right this way, my dear," he said, ushering her through her door with his hand on the small of her back.

"Oh, Charles!" she gasped as she took in the sights, sounds, and scents that greeted her.

Candles graced every flat surface, and strings of twinkling red and white electric lights were hung everywhere. Rose petals had been strewn about the floor. Her desk, bookshelves, file cabinets, and tables all boasted various flower arrangements. Bunches of shiny red and pink helium balloons, anchored by weights and floating gracefully, had been placed strategically around the room. Other air-filled balloons lay scattered about the floor. Instrumental music played quietly in the background. On the impeccably set table in the center of the room, a small picnic-style feast had been laid out: fruits, vegetables, cheese, bread, cold cuts, and a bottle of wine.

Speechless, Elsie turned and flung her arms about Charles and squeezed tightly. As he returned her embrace, he asked nervously, "You're not disappointed that we're not going out, are you?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Disappointed? How _could_ I be? After you've gone and done all _this_?"

"I wanted to be alone with you," he explained, "rather than at some restaurant or theater, surrounded by other people. We can't be _completely alone_ together at one of our flats without getting ourselves into trouble, but this seemed a reasonable compromise. We won't get _too_ carried away – not with people milling about outside, coming from the dining hall or going to the library – but I can still steal a kiss or two." And he did just that. He managed to kick the door shut without releasing her. "You know … I'm holding a beautiful woman in my arms, and I hear inviting music. I think I'd like to dance. Would you be so kind as to oblige me?"

"I'd like that very much."

Charles hung their coats on her coat stand, and Elsie set her purse on her desk. He held out his hand, and she took it. She laid her other hand on his shoulder, and he positioned his hand on her back. At first, they danced in the usual manner, maintaining a traditional hold with a comfortable yet respectable gap between them. Within minutes, however, the customary stance had been abandoned, and their bodies were pressed closely against each other. She'd twined her arms around his neck and nestled her head against his chest and shoulder, and he'd settled his hands at her waist and rested his cheek against the crown of her head. They simply stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed, holding each other, swaying in place.

After a moment, Elsie broke the silence. "Thank you for doing all this. You really are very romantic, you know."

"What can I say? Being in love brings out the best in me," said Charles.

"I know Valentine's Day must be difficult for you. Are you all right today?"

He stopped swaying and drew back to look at her, eyes narrowed and brow creased in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you proposed to Alice on Valentine's Day, didn't you?"

"How in the world do you remember that? It was twenty-three years ago!"

"Charles, really!" Elsie clicked her tongue at him and shook her head fondly. "When a girl gets engaged, the first thing she does when she gets home from the date is to call her best friend. Who, do you think, answered the phone at midnight to screech and flail with Alice? It's a miracle I didn't wake Peter!"

"Oh. Yes. Of course. I suppose I hadn't thought of that."

"Don't think I haven't noticed that you're always a little sad on this day every year since she's been gone."

"Not this year, though. Today, I'm very, _very_ happy." He kissed her forehead reassuringly and cradled her head against him once more, and they resumed their "dance." After a few seconds of silence, he asked, "What about you? When did Joe propose?"

She smiled fondly at her memories. "Which time?"

Charles was surprised. "He asked more than once?"

"Not technically, I suppose," Elsie clarified wistfully, though not sadly. "We first spoke of marriage – informally – when I was still in high school and he was at university, but of course, we couldn't be married _then_. He still needed to complete his course and go through his army training, and I hadn't even started university yet. He proposed _legitimately_ after he graduated and was commissioned. He was ready to be married right then, but he waited for me to finish my studies."

"He must have loved you very much," Charles observed quietly.

"He did," she confirmed.

"I'm not surprised. How could anyone _not_ love you?" He paused for a moment before continuing. "Elsie, it's good that we can talk about Alice and Joe, and I'm glad we're comfortable enough to do that. I think it's healthy for us both."

"I agree."

"But right now, I want to talk about _us_ – you and me. I want to tell you how much _I_ love you," he said, drawing her face to his and pressing a light kiss to her lips, "and how astonishingly beautiful you are."

"Charmer! I'll allow such flattery just this once," she smirked, "but only if you allow me to return it. I love you, too, Charles. Very much. And you are outrageously handsome." And she stretched up to give him a lingering kiss.

"Mmm … " he hummed against her lips. "I could get used to this."

"So could I!" she chuckled.

"But right now, I have something for you. Stand right here," Charles instructed, grasping her shoulders and leading her to a spot next to her desk, "and shut your eyes."

"All right," she said, closing her eyes as directed.

"And if you so much as crack one eyelid – even just a tiny sliver – I shall refuse to kiss you for an entire week."

"Charles!" laughed Elsie.

"I know, love. I know! It would be harder on me than it would be on you! But if you comply, I shall reward you handsomely. You shall have as many kisses as you want – any time you like."

"Well! Now, that's a deal!"

Charles released her from his hold, kissed her hand, and slipped away from her. She heard him bustling about – she knew not where – but an instant later, she detected his presence in front of her again. It sounded as if he were setting some items down on her desk, and then she heard a soft popping, snapping sound. He lifted her hand in his, held it between them, palm up, and brushed his lips lightly over the inside of her wrist. Too soon for her liking, the warmth of his mouth was replaced by something cool and lightweight: some sort of bracelet, she guessed. Her suspicion was confirmed when she felt his fingers fastening a clasp. He lowered her hand back down to her side, asking her not to open her eyes yet.

No sooner had his hand left hers than she felt his fingers on her ear. He removed one of her earrings, playfully nibbling on her earlobe afterwards, and then repeated the procedure with her other earring and earlobe. She heard the rattling of her earrings being set down on the desk, followed by another popping, snapping noise. This time, she was able to identify it as the sound produced when a jewelry box is opened. Elsie stood still as he carefully inserted what she presumed to be a new pair of earrings. Again he reminded her to keep her eyes firmly shut.

The creaking of the hinges on one more jewelry box alerted her to the fact that another gift was about to be bestowed. Guessing where this item would be placed, she shivered in anticipation of his kisses and his warm breath on her neck. She was not disappointed when she sensed him behind her. She first felt a delicate weight on her collarbones and the front of her neck and then something along the sides of her neck.

"Hold your hair up for me," he breathed in her ear. She did as he requested, and he dropped soft, feather-light kisses all over the sides and back of her neck. At last, she felt his fingers arrange a smooth, cool, dainty weight along the back of her neck.

"There!" Charles proclaimed. "All finished. You can let your hair down. Then open your eyes and step over here, please." He led her to stand in front of the small, decorative mirror hanging on one of her walls. Standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, he asked, "Do you like them?"

Looking in the mirror, Elsie saw that she now wore a pendant necklace with a small ruby heart surrounded by a larger heart shape made up of tiny diamonds. Brushing her hair aside to see her ears, she admired her new earrings. Each had one ruby heart fixed in place at the earlobe and another one dangling below on a short chain. Lastly, she glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist. It featured a repeating pattern of two heart-shaped rubies separated by five diamonds.*

"Do I _like_ them?" she cried. "They're _gorgeous_ , Charles! You're too good to me. I'm feeling pretty special right now. And very well-loved!"

"As well you should, my darling. You _are_ pretty special, and you are _very_ well-loved." He turned her around to kiss her. "I put some thought into them. You see, not only do they go with your ring, but they also have special meaning. When I asked you to marry me, I gave you my heart." He lifted her left hand and kissed the single heart-shaped ruby in her ring. "But then you gave me yours in return, and now our two hearts are together." Still holding her hand, he kissed her wrist, indicating her bracelet with its two-heart pattern. "I promise to keep your heart safe within my own." Now raising his hand to her neck, he fingered her pendant with its small heart inside the larger one; he then kissed the spot where the pendant lay between her collarbones. "And finally, if ever we disagree … or our ideas and desires don't coincide … I promise always to put your wants and needs above my own." He tucked her hair behind her ear and then turned his attention to her earring, resting his index finger gently underneath and behind the dangling heart before touching the higher-up, stationary heart. He kissed her ear and whispered, "I love you so much, Elsie."

"Oh, Charles! I love you, too! Very, _very_ much!" She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him desperately, trying to convey with her actions the depth she felt her words could not adequately express.

"I have something for you, too," Elsie said when they eventually finished kissing. "But I think you should close your eyes, too. I wasn't planning on presenting your gift in quite this manner, but now you've given me the idea, and I rather like it."

"If I must … " Charles sighed and obediently shut his eyes. He was slightly startled when her warm hands ran over his chest and up to his shoulders underneath his suit coat. She pushed the garment slightly off his shoulders and then stepped around behind him. Reaching over and around his shoulders, she grasped the lapels and pulled off his coat.

"Elsie … " he warned nervously.

"Keep calm, Charles," she chided gently. "I don't intend to remove any additional clothing."

She must have deposited the coat somewhere, because her hands and arms were free once more when they snaked around his middle to hug him from behind. She rested her head against his back, and he covered her hands with his own, somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach. But then she slipped away. With his eyes closed, he couldn't tell precisely what she was doing, but he knew she was now standing in front of him again, and he conjectured, based the sounds emanating from the direction of her desk, that she was taking something out of her purse. When the rustling stopped, she grasped his hand and held it between their bodies; her soft, warm fingers came to his shirt cuff and fiddled with his cufflink. She removed it and took the opportunity to caress his wrist in the process.

"Elsie, you said – " he began, but she cut him off.

"I know what I said, Charles, and I meant it. You do trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I do!"

"Well, then!" And without further fuss or delay, she unfastened and withdrew his other cufflink, as well.

Suddenly, realization dawned, and Charles was reassured by the understanding that Elsie was not divesting him of his shirt but simply presenting him with a new pair of cufflinks. He relaxed as she inserted first one and then the other.

"All done. You can look now," she told him.

He opened his eyes and inspected his newly acquired accoutrements. He was astonished to discover that he wore on each wrist a remarkably detailed, tiny rendering of the Downton Academy school crest.

"But where … ? How … ?" he bumbled.

"I ordered them specially," she informed him. "There are jewelers who will make just about anything you like."

"And I _do_ like them! Very much! Do you think perhaps we should require a pair of these as part of the boys' uniform? Maybe order some for the male teachers?"

"Not a chance!" she laughed. "This pair is one of a kind – for the headmaster only. The name Charles Carson is synonymous with Downton Academy. You've made this school what it is, love."

"But I haven't. Not on my own, at any rate," he demurred. "I've had help, you know. I've surrounded myself with the best staff in the world; my headmistress is particularly spectacular at what she does. I can claim credit only for being wise enough to hire _you_ to work by my side."

"Well, I _do_ like being by your side."

"That's good … because I'd like you to stay there forever."

"And I shall," she promised.

She stretched up, and he bent down, and they met in a tender kiss. It lasted only an instant before she drew back. "I hate to end this happy moment, Charles, but I'm starving, and that food looks delicious."

"Well, then. Shall we?"

He extended his arm, indicating the table. She led the way, and he followed. He pulled out her chair and helped her push it in once she was seated. While he poured the wine, she filled their plates. They enjoyed a lovely meal and pleasant conversation.

"This has been lovely, Charles. Thank you for doing all this," said Elsie when they were done eating.

"You're welcome, of course, but we're not done yet," Charles told her.

"There's _more_?"

"Yes, indeed. We haven't had dessert. Let me just take care of this first."

He cleared the table, with Elsie's help, and then took the leftover food and the dishes and glasses to the faculty lounge. When Charles returned, he began to blow out the candles.

"Are we to eat our sweets in the dark, then?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "Dessert will be served elsewhere."

She assisted him in extinguishing the remaining lit candles, and he turned off the music and the twinkling lights. Then he escorted her to a nearby conference room. In the middle of the large table sat a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and an assortment of chocolate covered strawberries and delicate pastries.

"Well, this is all very nice. But why are we _here_?" she wondered.

"We are _here_ because this room has recently been equipped with the latest sound, video, and electronic equipment," he reasoned. "It's our own private theater for two. Would you care to watch a film with me? Or even two, perhaps?"

She beamed. "I'd love to!"

He pointed to his laptop, which was sitting at the corner of the table. "I've downloaded digital copies of a number of films I think you might like. Shall we have a look?"

"I'm impressed! Have you finally embraced some aspect of modern technology?" she joked.

"Grudgingly, perhaps," he grumbled facetiously.

They both approached the computer and leaned over to browse the available titles. The choices were all classic romance movies.

She laughed. "I doubt these would be your top choices, dear. Did you do this all for me?"

"I did. You see, the nature of the film hardly matters to me. My only requirement is for the story to make _you_ happy. I won't even be watching the screen … because I'll be too enchanted by the smile on your beautiful face."

"Charles Carson, you say the sweetest things!"

"So, what's it going to be? _Casablanca_? _Breakfast at Tiffany's_?"

"No, I don't think so. Hmm… How about this one – _The Shop Around the Corner_?" Elsie suggested. "It's about a man and a woman who work together and slowly realize they've fallen in love."

"Sounds perfect," agreed Charles.

He set up the movie so that the video would play on the large screen on the far wall and the audio would play through the sound system's speakers throughout the room. Then he opened the champagne and poured two glasses, and they settled side-by-side into two padded leather swivel chairs. As they watched the film, they sipped champagne, fed each other nibbly bits, and stole occasional chocolate-, strawberry-, and champagne-flavored kisses. When the first movie ended, Elsie chose _Roman Holiday_ for the second part of their double feature, thinking Charles might at least enjoy the location and the Roman scenery. The remainder of the viewing session was spent much like the first part had been – with more time devoted to kissing, talking, laughing, and flirting than to watching the film.

After spending a delightful afternoon and evening together, they straightened up and closed up the conference room, the teachers' lounge, and Elsie's office. Charles walked her home through the accumulating snow. Between the main school building and her flat, they greeted groups of students who were having snowball fights, making snow angels, and building snowmen.

When they arrived at her door, he gave her an innocent peck on the lips, and even that simple gesture earned whoops and cheers from the students who were frolicking nearby. The hooting and hollering, in turn, earned the students a stern glare from the headmaster and a warning but indulgent look from the headmistress.

"One hundred and seventeen days," she reminded him.

"That is one hundred and seventeen days too many," came his pat retort.

And with that, she gave him one more quick kiss on the cheek, and they parted.

 **A/N *All these items can be seen in my tumblr post for this chapter.**

 **Next chapter will be the return of game night, featuring nearly the whole ensemble cast.**

 **If you'd like to leave a review, I'd be most pleased. Thanks in advance.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N In the author's note to my last chapter, I said that this chapter would be about game night. I've written about ½ to ¾ of a game night chapter, but it's not ready yet, so I thought instead, I'd give you an Easter chapter first. Game night will be next, barring anything unexpected.**

 **Also, I owe an apology and a debt of gratitude to Happyheart2 (peekaboochelsie). A conversation with her helped me tremendously with Chapter 1 of this sequel, and I completely forgot to acknowledge her. I'm sorry, friend. Thank you so much for your input and advice.**

 **Here we peek in on Elsie and Charles as they visit Peter at MIT during spring break.**

 _Cambridge, Massachusetts; Sunday, March 27, 2016_

Elsie woke early and tiptoed out of Peter's bedroom and into the front room of his apartment. Her heart swelled as she gazed lovingly at her two men: Peter asleep on the air mattress, mouth hanging open, hair sticking out every which way, one leg thrust out from under his blanket, and one arm thrown across his forehead; and Charles sleeping on the couch, cheeks darkened by morning stubble, hair plastered to his head, face relaxed, and lips curled slightly as if he might be smiling. She shook her head and smiled fondly when she saw that the coffee table held two enormous, colorful baskets overflowing with candy. " _Darling man_ ," she thought.

Assured that her son and fiancé were slumbering soundly, she crept to the closet to retrieve the items she'd stashed there yesterday. Quickly but noiselessly, she set out on the coffee table two more Easter baskets that were only slightly less impressive than the ones already there. Unfortunately, as she turned to leave, intending to return to Peter's room to try to go back to sleep, she bumped into Charles's protruding feet and disturbed his peaceful repose. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he yawned and stretched.

"Good morning. Happy Easter, love," he whispered.

"Hello, there. Happy Easter to you, too. I'm sorry I woke you," she replied in hushed tones so as not to rouse Peter. She crouched down next to Charles, ran her fingers through his hair, and leaned in to give him a good morning kiss.

"Oh, that's all right. I don't mind. I can't wait until you can wake me like this _every_ morning. I consider it a great privilege to be greeted by your beautiful, smiling face when I first open my eyes."

"You're a terrible flirt!" she scolded.

"I'm a _wonderful_ flirt," he argued.

"I see the Easter Bunny has come," she observed while pointing to the baskets.

"He _has_ , yes. I spoke with him, actually. He left something for you and something for Peter, but he said _I_ could stand to do with fewer sweets." Charles patted his stomach.

"Perhaps he thinks you're sweet enough as you are," she said, still speaking softly. " _I_ certainly think so. But he must have changed his mind and come back – because there's a basket here with your name on it."

"Hmmm … Yes, I see that. And it looks like it's filled with all of _your_ favorites. I wonder why that is," he teased.

"I'm sure he's well aware of your generous nature and simply assumed you'd want to share them with me," Elsie reasoned matter-of-factly.

"Ah, yes. That explains it. Makes perfect sense. He also left something else for you – over there." Charles indicated a brightly colored floral arrangement sitting on the table in the dining area.

Elsie stood and went over to inspect the spring flowers: daffodils, tulips, irises, and lilies. She gently stroked the petals while inhaling deeply.

"They're lovely, sweetheart. And they smell fantastic. Thank you," she said when she returned to him. He was sitting up now, and she sat down next to him.

"You're welcome, but they're not half as lovely as you," he murmured, kissing her sweetly.

Just then a pillow came flying at the two of them.

"Can't a guy get any sleep around here, you two lovebirds?" complained Peter dramatically.

"Sorry, lad," Charles apologized. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"That's all right. I think I smell chocolate. _That_ might be worth getting up early," Peter said good-naturedly. He sat up on the air mattress and looked at the baskets. "What's all this? Has the Easter Bunny come? It's been a long time since he last paid me a visit!"

"Well, then, he must be trying to make up for lost time, because there are _two_ baskets here with your name on them," Elsie informed him. "I do believe there's enough candy here to compensate you for all those years and _then some_!"

Peter got up and went over to the coffee table to inspect the baskets more closely. "Happy Easter to _me_! Now, this is what I call _breakfast_!" Elsie and Charles both chuckled at him.

After a breakfast that did indeed include a fair bit of candy in addition to bacon, eggs, potatoes, toast, and fruit, the threesome took turns using the bathroom and got ready for church.

The morning was cool and overcast, but the ten-minute walk to St. Peter's Episcopal Church was pleasant enough. The church's interior was decorated ornately with Easter lilies, gold banners, and other special touches; and the service, with its triumphant pageantry and special music for the holiday, was very nicely done. Afterwards, Peter introduced Elsie and Charles to some of the people he knew. Elsie had already met a few of them on previous visits, but the obvious pride with which Peter identified Charles as his pop moved both Charles and Elsie greatly. By the time they walked home, the sun had banished most of the clouds and warmed the temperature considerably.

After they returned to Peter's apartment, Elsie began to prepare Easter dinner. Days ago, when they were making plans, Peter had offered to take Charles and Elsie out to brunch at a nice restaurant; but Elsie had insisted she wanted to cook a traditional meal with all the trappings and to have dinner with the just the three of them, as a family. So while Elsie bustled about Peter's small kitchenette, the men set the dining table and snatched bites of this and that, earning themselves an occasional swat and a not-so-serious reprimand.

"I'm glad you and mum came to visit me," Peter told Charles as he set out the plates and silverware.

"Well, when you told your mum you had to stay here to work and couldn't make it home over break, she suggested we visit you instead. We couldn't have you here all alone, now, could we? It's just fortuitous that our break coincides with yours this year." Charles paused before continuing. "I'm awfully glad you both invited me to come. You know, lad, it's nice to be part of a family again, especially on holidays like this. Ever since your Aunt Alice died, I've missed that. It's good to _belong_ again. You know I love your mum very, very much. And the fact that _you_ come along, too, as part of the package … Well, it just makes me very happy."

"I've always been fond of you, Pop. You know that. But now it's different, isn't it? Even better."

"Yes, it is." Charles smiled and set a bottle of wine and some glasses on the table.

"So what are you two going to do for the rest of the week?" Peter wanted to know.

"Your mother's got a busy schedule planned for us. I think we're going to see every single landmark, historical site, museum, and cultural venue in the area," Charles told him.

"I wish I could go with you, but I've got to finish this dissertation."

"We'll try to stay out of your way."

"You won't be in the way. I'll be going back and forth between here and campus. I can do most of my writing here on my laptop, but I'll need to go to my lab and my office at least a few times. Hardly anyone will be there over break, but there are a few of us who have work to do. I wish I could spend more time with you and mum … but I'm just happy that you're here," explained Peter.

"And we're thrilled to be here, too," Charles asserted.

Elsie announced that the meal was ready, and the three enjoyed a delicious feast of lamb, roast vegetables, and hot cross buns. By the time they were finished, they hardly had room for the simnel cake, stuffed as they were.

After dinner, Charles insisted on having an Easter egg hunt. He made Elsie and Peter sit on the couch and close their eyes while he hid two dozen plastic eggs filled with candy. It didn't take Peter and Elsie very long to find all the eggs; there weren't a great many hiding places in Peter's small apartment. Nonetheless, Charles was quite pleased with himself when Elsie and Peter spotted the last egg and reached for it simultaneously. Peter graciously allowed his mother to have the egg, though he did first subject her to some well-meant ribbing.

As the evening drew on, they settled themselves in the sitting room and talked. They made plans for Charles and Elsie to return to Cambridge in June for Peter's hooding ceremony and graduation, and they worked out arrangements to help move Peter back home to Chicago. They spoke excitedly of Charles and Elsie's impending nuptials. Peter related some of his struggles in trying to finish writing his dissertation, and Charles and Elsie offered encouragement. Elsie and Charles told Peter all the latest goings-on at Downton. The hour grew late, and Peter excused himself to go and change into his pajamas and to brush his teeth. Charles and Elsie took the opportunity to snuggle closer on the sofa.

"Are you happy, my dear?" he asked.

"I am," she confirmed. "Very, _very_ happy. Are _you_?"

"Immensely so. I was telling Peter earlier how nice it is to be part of a family, how good it feels to _belong_."

"I've been thinking something similar all day," said Elsie. "I'd always been content with Peter when it was just the two of us. We weren't actually _missing_ anything; nothing was _lacking_. We had each other, and that was enough. We were as happy as we could be. But I had no idea how much happier we could be with you. Somehow, you've made an already perfect situation even better."

Tears welled in Charles's eyes, and a lump swelled in his throat. He could form no verbal response to such a declaration, so he simply kissed her, hoping to convey with that gesture all the sentiments he couldn't articulate.

A moment later, Peter returned. Elsie and Charles took their turns in the bathroom and got ready for bed. Elsie tucked Peter and Charles into their makeshift beds and kissed them both good night; then she went and tucked herself into Peter's bed. And after spending such a happy day together, all three drifted off to sleep quite contentedly.

 **A/N Please leave a review if you can spare a moment. Thanks in advance.**

 **I wish you a blessed and joyous Easter if you celebrate Christ's resurrection and a most pleasant Sunday if you don't.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thanks for your encouraging responses to the last chapter. You readers are the best!**

 **Here we go: game night at Charles's place!**

 _Saturday, April 9, 2016_

When Elsie and Charles had first reinstituted a weekly "game night" in early February, their gatherings had been small: the two of them; Beryl, who often came with Bill Mason; occasionally Robert and Cora; and once in a while Isobel Crawley and Richard Clarkson, the two of whom appeared to be growing awfully chummy with each other. John Bates, Joseph Molesley, Anna Smith, and Phyllis Baxter had each come once or twice. But once word had spread about how much fun the get-togethers were, _everyone_ had wanted to attend. The number of guests had steadily grown, and tonight Charles and Elsie were expecting quite a crowd.

"Thanks for inviting me tonight, mate," said Charlie Grigg as he helped Charles set up some card tables and folding chairs in Charles's flat. "You know I'm trying to earn your trust, and it means a lot to me that you're giving me a chance to do that."

"Well, I have to tell you: your stunt trying to steal Elsie and me away from Downton didn't exactly endear you to me. However, I'll give credit where credit is due: _since then_ – since you've come over to Downton yourself – you've given me no reason to doubt your contrition, your sincerity, or your loyalty. I _could be_ slowly warming to you. Now, if you'll help me move this sofa, I _might_ see my way clear to trusting you with an important mission tonight."

The door buzzer rang, and Elsie bustled in from the kitchen. "I'll get that," she offered, seeing that Charles and Charlie were wrestling with the furniture. "Watch your toes."

"Beryl! Bill! Come in, you two!" she welcomed the couple at the door.

"Hello, dear!" Beryl greeted her.

"Good to see you, Elsie," said Bill warmly.

"Here. Let me help you with that," Elsie offered, taking a covered platter from Beryl.

Charles and Charlie grunted out a greeting to the new arrivals as they shoved the couch out of the way.

"Hello, there!" Beryl called to Charles and Charlie as she followed Elsie to the kitchen.

Bill acknowledged the men in the sitting room. "Evenin', gents. Let me just set all this down in the kitchen," he said, referring to the bags, boxes, and other containers with which Beryl had laden him, "and then I'll come back to lend a hand."

Bill helped the ladies get set up in Charles's kitchen and then returned to assist the men.

"Bill, have you met my friend Charlie?" asked Charles.

"Not formally, but I've certainly heard about Downton's new addition, and I've seen him in passing." Bill held out his hand to his new acquaintance. "Bill Mason. I'm the maintenance supervisor. How do you do?"

Charlie shook Bill's proffered hand. "Pleasure to meet you. Charlie Grigg. New faculty recruiter. Charles and I are old school mates."

"If he tries to tell you any stories of our adventures, don't believe _half_ of what he says!" Charles warned Bill.

"In that case, I'll just have to tell _twice_ as many tales!" Charlie shot back playfully.

While the men finished setting up more tables and chairs in the sitting room, the women arranged cheese and crackers on platters in the kitchen.

"I'm very happy to see that you've come with Bill tonight. You two are seeing a lot of each other, then, are you? That's nice," observed Elsie.

"Is it? He's a nice man, and I'm very fond of him. Only … " Beryl said cautiously.

"Only what?" Elsie nudged gently.

"Only he's been married. He knows about love and romance. I've never even had a serious man in my life. And it's been a century and a half since I've even been on a date! Even then, it was only a handful of miserable prospects and disastrous outings. Until now, I've never known such a kind man who treats me so well, and I don't mind admitting: I'm feeling rather out of my depth. I don't … I don't think I know how to go about it." Beryl revealed her fears as Elsie listened sympathetically.

"Beryl, dear, what you've just described is the _opposite_ of a _problem_! He's a good man; he treats you well; and you're fond of him. There's no secret to being in love. You just continue to be your wonderful self, and that's all there is to it. I daresay you've _already_ won him over. I see the way he looks at you. He's smitten! Everything else will fall into place naturally."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm worrying too much," Beryl conceded.

"I _am_ right, and you _are_ worrying too much," Elsie insisted.

"But he's already had a happy marriage," Beryl persisted. "What if he compares me to Beth*? What if I don't measure up?"

"Do you think I've tried to measure Charles against Joe? I haven't – because I can't. It would be impossible to form any sort of valid comparison, and it would be unfair to them both for me even to _try_. And I don't believe Charles has ever expected me to be just like Alice. Beryl, Bill loves you for who you _are_ , not someone he _expects_ you to be or someone he _hopes_ you'll be. He's a wise man. But if you're feeling uneasy about it, then talk to him. I'm sure he'll be sensitive to your concerns. I can't reassure you in the same way _he_ can," Elsie finished sagely.

"And you and Charles are managing? You're not troubled by living with ghosts?"

"Not really, no. We're both done with living in the past. We're enjoying the present and looking hopefully to the future. And I'm sure Bill isn't lamenting his past, either; he's looking forward to his future with you."

Beryl relaxed, and her lips curled into a grin. "' _Smitten_ ,' you say? Do you really think so?"

"I _know_ so," Elsie declared emphatically with an encouraging grin.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A short time later, all of the guests had arrived, and people were congregated in small groups at different locations around Charles's flat. Sarah O'Brien, Gladys Denker-Spratt, Beryl, and Elsie were perched on stools around the island in Charles's kitchen involved in a tense game of gin rummy. Violet, Isobel, Cora, and Rosamund sat at a card table playing Bananagrams®; Violet, of course, was dominating as usual. Mary, Edith, and Sybil played Scrabble® at an adjacent table, where Sybil was just barely succeeding in keeping the peace between her sisters. Anna Smith, Phyllis Baxter, Jane Moorsum, and Gwen Dawson were engaged in a friendly game of bunco** at a card table. The largest, liveliest group – consisting of Daisy Robinson, Ivy Sullivan, Edna Braithewaite, Ethel Parks, Andy Parker, Jimmy Kent, Alfred Nugent, William Mason, and Thomas Barrow – had taken over Charles's large dining table; they had started out playing Trivial Pursuit® and Beyond Balderdash® but had now moved on to Telestrations®. In Charles's sitting room, two poker games were in progress. Robert, Matthew Crawley, Tom Branson, Bertie Pelham, John Bates, and Richard Clarkson occupied one portable poker table. John had the largest pile of chips in front of him; Robert's and Richard's piles were somewhat smaller than when they'd started out; and the other men's stacks remained more or less the same throughout the night. And situated around another, similar table were Tim Spratt, Joseph Molesley, William Molesley, Bill Mason, Charlie Grigg, and Charles.

Joseph considered his cards skeptically for a moment and then made a decision, pushing forward a pile of chips. "I'll raise you a dollar fifty," he said to Tim Spratt, who had just placed his bet.

"Too rich for _my_ blood," conceded Bill, setting his cards down. "I'm out."

"I'll see your dollar fifty," challenged Charlie Grigg, sliding his stack of chips toward the middle of the table.

"I hope you know what you're doing, son." William Molesley said to Joseph and shook his head doubtfully. "I fold."

"I'll call," Charles announced at his turn, matching the wager.

"I'll raise you two dollars," said Tim, squinting his eyes defiantly while placing his bet.

Joseph gulped nervously. "I suppose I can match that," he said shakily.

Charles Grigg whistled. "Not me. I'm done," he said, and he bowed out, placing his cards on the table.

"I think I'll raise," Charles stated, slowly and deliberately, with a smug smirk. "Five dollars." And he slid his chips into place.

"I'd like to think you're bluffing," Tim declared. "Really, I would … " He considered for a moment, studying his opponent: Charles Carson appeared confident, and the man was not known for his poker face. In fact, the man was as transparent as they come. Perhaps the only person in the world who was _worse_ at lying was Tim's _other_ opponent, Joseph Molesley. So if Charles Carson smiled, he must have had a good hand. "But I'm not willing to risk it," Tim decided as he folded his hand. "I'm finished."

Now it was Joseph's turn. His face was red and beaded with perspiration, and his hands twitched. He tugged at his collar and undid a second button on his shirt. Just then, Phyllis Baxter approached the table. She said nothing – so as not to disrupt the game – but she smiled and placed her hand on Joseph's shoulder. With a sudden surge of confidence, Joseph pushed all his remaining chips toward the pot. "All in," he proclaimed proudly.

Charles's eyes widened, and his eyebrows shot up. "Well! That's it for me, then!" he yielded.

"Well done, Joseph!" said Phyllis. She beamed at him and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

Joseph just stared at her with a shocked expression that gradually melted into a silly, lovesick grin. When he recovered himself, he cleared his throat and said, "Phyllis, I'm feeling rather lucky at the moment – and brave enough to press my luck before I lose my nerve. I have two tickets to the Cubs home opener on Monday night. Would you like to go with me?"

"I'd like that very much," she told him, smiling radiantly.

"Are you much of a Cubs fan?" he wanted to know.

"Not particularly, no. But I could easily become one. I _am_ a fan of someone _else_ who is a fan," she said meaningfully.

His eyes went wide with wonder. "I think I'm done here for tonight, gentlemen," said Joseph, standing up to join Phyllis. "I've been even more fortunate than I could possibly have hoped."

"But – your winnings!" Charles reminded him. "There's thirty-odd dollars here! Don't you want to cash out?"

"Keep it. A little something for the host. Buy a nice bottle of wine for next time," Joseph called over his shoulder as he and Phyllis turned away. He pulled out his phone to show her the Cubs' box score and explained that with tonight's win, their record was four and one. "This is going to be their year," he asserted. "I can feel it. Their luck is about to change. _Mine_ certainly has." And the couple slipped away to a quiet corner to talk.

"A pair of aces!" cried Tim, when he noticed that Joseph had left his last hand face up on the table. "He went _all in_ on _a pair of aces_? I lost to _that_?"

"Have you lost _all_ of our money?" asked Gladys, who had arrived at the table just in time to overhear Tim's complaint.

"No, I have _not_!" he told her. "It's just a friendly game. There was a twenty dollar buy-in, and I still have fifteen left."

"Well, you've never been much of a card sharp, darling. As a matter of fact, you've never been very sharp at much of _anything_ , really," she commented with a fair bit of sass.

"Oh, is that so, dearest? Well, there _is_ at least _one_ thing you've _never_ complained about … " he pointed out, sliding his hand over his wife's hip and thigh provocatively.

Her demeanor shifted immediately and quite noticeably. "Right," she said quickly. "Are we ready to go, then? Suddenly, I'm feeling rather … _tired_." And she let out an exaggerated yawn, one which was obviously feigned.

"Ah, yes. You do look rather the worse for wear. I can see … the dark circles _…_ under your eyes. Let's go home and get you to bed. Er … to _sleep_ , that is. Let's get you to _sleep_ ," Tim said, his manner similarly altered.

The poker game having now broken up, the men settled accounts, and the Spratts excused themselves. William, Bill, Charlie, and Charles cleared the table.

"I'm happy for Joseph," remarked William. "The lad's had two season tickets for five years now. Sometimes I go with him, or once in a while he asks a friend, but often he goes alone. I can't tell you how long he's been wanting to ask Phyllis. I never imagined that winning a hand of poker would be the thing to give him the confidence to finally ask her!" The father chuckled happily at his son's good fortune.

The other men just smiled and shook their heads.

"My boy William subscribed to concert series at the CSO*** for three years before he got up the nerve invite Daisy to a performance," Bill informed the others. "But all's well that ends well, I suppose."

Charles excused himself to say goodbye to the younger crowd, who were now leaving – probably to go out somewhere and continue their festivities. The older contingent stayed a bit longer to help put things back in order, but soon they left, too. Thanks to Elsie's creative planning, each guest had gone home with a door prize or party favor: a deck of cards, a set of dice, a set of dominoes, or some small party game. By midnight, only Elsie, Charles, Beryl, Bill, and Charlie remained. When his last guests were leaving, Charles went along with them so that he could walk Elsie home.

As the small group walked along in the chilly April night, Charlie commented, "That was quite a job, eh, Charles? I thought he'd never get it right!"

"I couldn't believe it!" Charles agreed. "All night, he kept folding on the straight flushes and full houses we were feeding him! And then all it took was for Phyllis to bat her eyes at him, and he went all in on a garbage hand!"

"What are you two talking about?" a curious Beryl asked.

"Oh, nothing much," said Charles. "I decided to help Joseph out a bit tonight, so I enlisted Charlie's help. We told Bill about our plan, and he went along with us, too."

"But Joseph didn't make it easy, that's for sure!" Bill supplied. "He was too timid to bet on the good hands these two were dealing to him. And he almost blew it in the end, too! Thank goodness Charles frightened Tim into folding! But then Joseph wouldn't even keep his winnings. He left without his money."

"He left _with Phyllis_ , which was all that mattered _to him_ , I'm sure," observed Elsie.

"Yes, indeed!" cried Beryl.

When they reached Elsie's door, Charles shook Charlie's hand and thanked him for his help, and Charlie went on his way. Beryl and Bill said good night to Elsie and Charles, and Bill walked Beryl home.

When Charles and Elsie stood alone at her door, Elsie asked, "What made you decide to help Joseph?"

"You'll be pleased to know it was something _you_ told me some time ago," Charles informed her. "You said, 'It's easy to support the consistent winners, but it's the underdogs who really need the encouragement.' Or something to that effect."

"Well! That was awfully sweet of you. It's good to know you occasionally listen to me!" She put her hands on his shoulders and stretched up to kiss him.

"You know I hang on your every word, my love." He kissed her back. "Thank you for all your help tonight. You're very good at this sort of thing. An excellent hostess. I think everyone had a nice time."

"It will be nice when we can entertain in our own home," she commented. "We'll have more room, and we won't have to part ways at the end of the night."

He pulled her closer. "Mmm … I'm looking forward to _that_ part most of all!"

"Soon enough, darling," she assured him.

"No, it's _not_ soon enough at all!" he dissented with a forlorn sigh. "But nothing can be done about it."

"I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, handsome."

"Good night, beautiful. Sweet dreams."

And after one last kiss, Elsie went inside, and Charles made his way home.

 **A/N *Beth was William's mother, who passed away just like she did in canon. We don't know her name, so I just picked a random name. Why Beth? I don't know.**

 ****Bunco/bunko/bonko is a very,** _ **very**_ **simple dice game. Think: Yahtzee® Lite –** _ **Lite**_ **. You may or may not be familiar with it. In some areas, it's a popular women's game, and there are clubs and weekly bunco nights in which members take turns hosting. It's essentially an excuse for women to get together socially to bitch about their spouses/significant others/kids/jobs/health problems/whatever. The game requires almost no concentration (pure luck; no skill or strategy involved), so players can focus more on the conversation than on the game itself.**

 *****Chicago Symphony Orchestra**

 **The Chicago Cubs are a notoriously bad team with an inexplicably loyal following. The last time they made it to the World Series was in 1945, and the last time they** _ **won**_ **the World Series was in 1908. Fans are infamous for saying, "This is our year," at the beginning of the season and "We'll get 'em next year," at the end of the season. Molesley is pretty much your stereotypical Cubs fan. (And Bears fan, too – lately, they've been just as bad – but football season is over.)**

 **I wanted Molesley to be able to say that all the Chicago teams won today, but the 'Hawks thwarted my plans with their loss tonight. But the Sox did win this afternoon, and both the Bulls and the Cubs did win tonight, so I imagine Joseph is still pretty happy.**

 **Special thanks to Chelsie Dagger for help with the poker part. I had known previously only the basics of the game, but she was kind enough to explain how the betting works and to make some helpful suggestions. Somehow, I knew she'd be the one to ask for help with this one.**

 **Please leave a review if you can spare a few moments. Your kind encouragement helps fuel the creative process.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Thank you to everyone who read my Baxley supplemental chapter, the account of Phyllis and Joseph's date. (And if you haven't read it, please do take a peek!) Now back to our regularly scheduled story.**

 **Thank you also to everyone for sticking with me through this. Thanks for reading, reviewing and supporting. I appreciate all your encouragement. I know it takes me a long time between updates, but I thank you for your patience.**

 **House-hunting Chelsie. Here we go.**

 _Saturday, April 30, 2016_

"I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," moaned Charles when the agent left them alone to look around the house.

"Oh, stop your grumbling," Elsie chided. "This is only the third one today."

"We've seen just about every available property in the area! We've been at it for _weeks_! _Months_ , really. Nearly every weekend since February. We're running out of choices. And we're running out of time, too, if we're to have any hope of moving in right after the wedding." He was in an irritable mood, but what he said was true: they _had_ been looking unsuccessfully for weeks, and they _were_ running out of possibilities and running out of time.

"Then let's stop talking and start looking around," said Elsie, ever practical.

"Oh, all right," Charles huffed.

"Come on, then. I think this one has real potential."

"It does look nice enough from the outside," he conceded. "Solid and traditional."

"Yes. Both very important qualities – and very attractive ones," she pointed out. "And not just for houses but for people, too. I happen to like 'solid and traditional.'" She rested her hand on his shoulder and stretched up to kiss his cheek.

A simple kiss from his fiancée served to improve Charles's demeanor dramatically, and thereafter he approached their mission more agreeably. "Let's start here, then, shall we? This front room is pleasant, I suppose. Cozy, little fireplace. Big windows. Not a bad view," he allowed.

Elsie grasped his upper arm and leaned her head onto his shoulder. "I can see us cuddled up by the fire on a cold winter's night, watching the snow fall outside … "

"That's certainly a pleasant thought," he agreed as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

The dining room came next.

"Not much to see here," offered Charles. "Just a big, empty space. But I do like the chandelier and the wall sconces."

"There's plenty of room for a long table, a breakfront, and a sideboard," Elsie observed. "It will be nice for parties and holidays."

After they took a quick look at the powder room, the next stop on their tour of inspection was the study.

"Well! Would you look at those bookcases!" cried Elsie, referring to the floor-to-ceiling, built-in shelves that covered two walls of the room.

"I must admit," Charles said, "they're quite impressive."

"We could probably fit all our books in here and have room to spare!"

"And I think there's room enough for a desk for each of us and a file cabinet or two, if we arrange things just so."

They moved on to the kitchen at the back of the house.

"Oh, I like these appliances! An oversized cooktop and a double oven!" Elsie commented. "Lots of counter space, too, and a center island. Perfect for holiday dinners and for Beryl and me to do our baking."

Charles opened some of the cabinets, knocking on the wood and inspecting the hinges. "They seem sturdy enough," he observed. "I like the finish. And we can fit a nice, big kitchen table right over there."

After appraising the walk-in pantry and the laundry room off the kitchen, they walked out onto the back porch, which looked overlooked a small back yard.

"It's not much to look at today, in the cold and the wind and the rain, but we could plant some flowers and small shrubs," suggested Elsie.

"Maybe a grill here … and a picnic table. And there's room in the yard for … to … if … " He trailed off.

"If _what_?" she coaxed gently, nudging him with shoulder and elbow.

"Well … if grandchildren come along. I don't know if Peter will ever get married or have children, but if he does … well, I'd like to have a place to play with them. Enough space to teach them to play cricket or build a snowman … maybe hang a swing on the porch here … "

Tears formed in Elsie's eyes, and she threw her arms around Charles. "Charles Carson! Just when I thought I couldn't possibly love you more!" she exclaimed, and she kissed him soundly.

Their circuit of the ground floor complete, they went back inside and climbed the stairs to the upper floor to see the bedrooms. The two smaller rooms at the back of the house were deemed perfectly serviceable as guest rooms. These would be used when Becky and/or Elsie's mother visited. The couple also happily considered the possibility that grandchildren might someday stay overnight. The guest bathroom was also perfectly acceptable.

Finally, they considered the master bedroom at the front of the house. Both flushed a little at unspoken imaginings of what they might be doing in this room six weeks from now, but they kept to the task at hand. They assessed and approved the walk-in closet first. Next, they moved to the master bathroom, where the spacious shower, the large tub, and the vanity with its double sink also met with their approval. Thoughts of a tub and a shower big enough for two did nothing to calm either of them, and both were assailed by mental images of typical morning preparations: Charles standing at one sink, shaving, wearing only a towel around his waist, and Elsie standing at the other, wearing only her undergarments and a slip, applying her makeup and styling her hair. Though neither spoke, each suspected that the other was having similar thoughts, and by tacit understanding, they proceeded into the bedroom. For a moment, they stood silently, just looking around. The front of the room faced the front of the house, and the windows overlooked the street. Elsie remarked that there was enough room for a modest sitting area with some chairs or a love seat and a couple of small tables. Charles pointed out the area along the side walls where some dressers and a mirror might go. They agreed that the fireplace, situated directly above the one they'd seen downstairs, was a nice touch. Neither had to speak of the large, comfortable bed that would fit so nicely against the back wall, but when both stood together in the spot where the central, critical piece of furniture would surely go, Charles pulled Elsie into his arms for a blistering kiss. His arms held her tightly against him while his mouth moved urgently against hers. His hands pressed insistently into her hips, sides, and back; and her hands roamed sensually over his chest, shoulders, and the back of his neck. After a minute, they came to their senses and drew apart enough to breathe.

"Charles, I want to spend our wedding night here," Elsie stated emphatically. "Right here in this room."

"You do? Not some nice downtown hotel?" asked Charles.

"No. Not some hotel. I want to be in our home," she reiterated. "I want to start off our marriage the same way we'll spend most of our days – and nights. I want our wedding night and our first night in our new home to be the same. Would you mind terribly?"

"Well, I do rather fancy the idea of carrying you over the threshold … But frankly, I don't care _where_ we'll be on our wedding night. I shall require only my bride and an adequate bed," he whispered seductively, boring into her eyes with his own, and he kissed her again.

After a moment, she eased away from him, gasping and panting. "I'd like very much to continue this, but we do have an agent waiting for us on the front porch – in the cold and the rain."

"The porch is covered. He's got a coat. Let him wait," Charles said as he began to lavish her neck with hot kisses.

"Charles!" she scolded half-heartedly, swatting his shoulder.

"Right. Sorry, love," he said as he recovered his wits. "Shall we go and see about negotiating a price, then?"

"This is it, then? This is the one?" she asked hopefully.

"I think so, if you like it. It's far enough removed from school that we'll have our privacy, but it's close enough that's it's an easy walk. It has everything else we want: a nice study, ample kitchen accommodations, guest bedrooms for your family and possibly grandchildren, a large dining room for parties and family get-togethers, and a back yard suitable for flowers beds and young ones."

"It _is_ rather perfect, isn't it?"

"Indeed," he concurred. "Now, shall we go back down and let the poor man inside to talk terms?"

As he turned to go back downstairs, she grasped his wrist and stopped him.

"It looks like it's stopped raining, and I do believe it's warming up a bit. He can wait a moment longer," Elsie said, and she spent that moment kissing Charles.

 **A/N So now they've got a house. And a plan for the wedding night.**

 **To the guest who reviewed last chapter and wondered why Charles and Elsie need a new house if they're able to host a sizeable party at Charles's flat, there are several reasons.**

 **1\. Just because they can manage to cram 30+ people into his flat for a party doesn't mean that it's a comfortable fit.**

 **2\. Living at Charles's flat might be difficult because Alice lived there with him before she died. The memories might be too much for them both. A fresh start would be good.**

 **3\. They'd like to have some privacy, and living on campus wouldn't allow for very much separation of their professional and private lives – the same reason for their living in the cottage in canon. They need their "carefree love nest."**

 **4\. Peter is now at a point where he might be considering marriage and family, so Elsie and Charles are thinking about accommodations for potential grandchildren.**

 **5\. It's just plain nice to have a new place to start a marriage.**

 **I hope to update fairly regularly over the next few weeks leading up the wedding and honeymoon.**

 **Thank you again for reading and reviewing, and please do drop me a line to share your thoughts. I love to hear from you.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me this far. I truly appreciate your support. It's been a long engagement period, and we still have a little while to go before the wedding. Updates have been infrequent. Not much exciting has been happening. In spite of all that, I have a faithful group of readers who are still with me, and I'm grateful for your loyalty. I'll try to keep it interesting, update as regularly as I can, and get us to the wedding and honeymoon quickly.**

 **Without further ado, I give you … Mother's Day!**

 _Sunday, May 8, 2016_

Elsie woke and checked her phone on her bedside table. There were two new text messages already, though it was still quite early.

The first message was from Peter: _Happy Mother's Day, Mum! Love you. I'll call you later._ It included small pictures of flowers and hearts. Smiling fondly, she typed a short reply: _Thanks! Love you, too._ She wondered fleetingly why Peter had been awake so early – he'd sent the message at 5:00 AM, his time – but she supposed it must have been because he had so much to do in his last few weeks before graduation.

The other message, which had just arrived, was from Charles: _Good morning, my sweetheart_. _Happy Mother's Day to you! Is it all right if come by to get you a little earlier than usual today? Just a bit? Say, 10-15 minutes? I have something in mind, and it will require a little extra time before services._ Elsie responded: _Thank you. Of course it's all right if you're here early! I'll be ready. See you then._ For a moment, she pondered what he might be plotting, but she quickly convinced herself it couldn't be anything too significant: after all, Charles Carson wasn't very good at keeping secrets. And his reply seemed ordinary enough: _Wonderful! See you in a bit._ So she ate a leisurely breakfast, read the newspaper, and got ready for the day.

Sometime later, when her buzzer rang and she answered her door, she expected to encounter Charles, having come to escort her to church. Upon opening the door, she did indeed find Charles; but much to her surprise and delight, standing next to him, comically pretending to hide behind a bouquet of flowers and three pink helium balloons, was Peter.

"Happy Mother's Day!" he greeted her, grinning madly.

Elsie shrieked excitedly, threw her arms around her son, and squeezed him tightly. When she finally released him, Elsie hardly knew what to ask. "What – ? How – ? When – ?"

"Let's go inside, and I'll explain," suggested Peter.

Elsie kissed Charles, too, and the three went into Elsie's flat. Charles took the balloons and tended to the flowers while Elsie and Peter made themselves comfortable in Elsie's sitting room.

"I took an early flight this morning to surprise you," Peter explained. "It was all Pop's idea. He made all the arrangements and picked me up at O'Hare."

"But how can you afford the time to be away right now?" Elsie wanted to know. "You must have a million things to do!"

"No matter how busy I might be, I'll always have time for my favorite mum," he said, turning on the charm.

"Yes, well, as I'm your _only_ mum, I have no competition for that honor," she pointed out.

"But I'm afraid I can't stay long; I've come just for the day," he said apologetically. "I'm scheduled on the last flight back to Boston tonight."

"Well, I'm sorry you can't stay longer, but I'm thrilled to see you at all!"

When Charles joined them, Elsie favored him with an appreciative hug and kiss, saying, "I understand you're responsible for engineering this little treat for me."

"Oh, I had very little to do with it," he said, trying to deflect attention from himself. "I simply made a suggestion. It's Peter who roused himself in the wee hours this morning, traveled a thousand miles to see you, and will get back rather late tonight. The lad obviously loves you dearly. You must be the world's best mum."

"Oh, absolutely!" Peter confirmed. "She certainly is."

"Oh, you two!" Elsie scolded gently. But she really was touched that both of her men loved her so much.

"So I think I'll join you for church, and then the three of us can go out to eat. Pop has already made the reservations. I'd love to go to Auntie Beryl's brunch in the dining hall and see everyone, but I don't fancy sharing my mum today. I want to be able to give you my full attention, and I want to have yours. With so little time, I'd rather not be distracted by everyone else," said Peter sensibly.

Elsie was quick to agree. "That sounds perfect!"

"Shall we, then?" prompted Charles, and the three left Elsie's flat and made their way to the school's chapel.

As expected, everyone at church was pleased to see Peter, and everyone was likewise disappointed to hear that he wouldn't be staying for brunch. He did stay and chat for a while after the service, promising to see everyone when he returned for good next month, and that seemed to appease people.

A short time later, Elsie, Charles, and Peter found themselves sitting down to a delicious meal at Balena*, a nearby restaurant known to have one of the best Mother's Day brunches in Chicago.

"This is very nice, you two. Thank you," said Elsie between bites. "So tell me, Peter. Is everything going smoothly? Do you have things mostly in order? It won't be long now."

"Oh, I've got all the _hard_ work finished. Mostly, what's left is a lot of red tape: forms and other paperwork and fees. Formalities, really. Just a lot of time-consuming little details and loose ends to tie up. And I'm trying to pack up my apartment, bit by bit."

"Well, we're looking forward to coming out for your graduation," said Charles. "We couldn't be prouder, you know."

"I do know, Pop. Thanks." Peter changed the topic. "How are the wedding plans coming? You two must be busy, too. Auntie Beryl said she took you dress shopping yesterday, Mum."

"She did, yes," Elsie confirmed, and she related the story.

 _It was late Saturday afternoon, and Elsie and Beryl had visited nearly every bridal boutique in and around Lincoln Park**. Elsie wouldn't even consider a typical, traditional white gown with a train and a veil and all the trimmings and trappings. Fearing she'd appear ridiculous if she wore anything too showy, she sought something simple and understated – something appropriate for a middle-aged, previously married school teacher/headmistress (and mother of a grown son). So far, she and Beryl had had little luck finding anything acceptable._

" _Beryl,_ _ **please**_ _!" Elsie pleaded in exhausted desperation as she stood on the sidewalk outside yet another dress store. "This will be the fifth shop we've visited today, and still we've nothing to show for our efforts! Why must I have something_ _ **new**_ _? I must have_ _ **something**_ _suitable in my closet. I'm sure I can get by with one of the more formal dresses that I've worn to a black-tie party or a fundraiser. Can we please just go back to my place and take a look?"_

 _But Beryl would have none of it. "Nonsense! This is your_ _ **wedding**_ _we're talking about! How often does a girl get married?" she argued._

" _In my case, twice! Once every thirty years or so. And that is precisely why I don't need anything too extravagant. I've already done this once before, when I was much younger, and I'm no longer some pretty, young thing. A serviceable dress from my current wardrobe will suit me just fine."_

" _Elsie Hughes, you listen to me. I understand that this will be the second time you've gone through this. And I realize that Charles has done it once before, too. And I fully appreciate that you're a bit older than the typical bride. But those are exactly the reasons why it's so important," Beryl explained. "You and Charles have more to celebrate than most. You've both been through so much, and now you're finally together. You've had your hearts broken and then pieced back together. In the aftermath of all the heartache, you've somehow found each other. Would you have me believe that this love is somehow less precious than your love for Joe or Charles's love for Alice? You know better than anyone how much this all means. If that's not reason enough to go all out … " Beryl paused and shook her head in exasperation. "Well, really! You're telling me you want to simply 'get by' with something you already own? Something Charles has already seen?"_

 _Elsie raised her hands in surrender. "All right, Beryl! All right. You've convinced me. Let's go and have a look." And so they did._

 _After spending an hour of looking through racks and displays and trying on dresses that looked much more attractive on hangers and mannequins than they did on Elsie, she still hadn't found anything suitable. Elsie was ready to give up and choose something from her closet, and Beryl was almost ready to give in and allow it. They had agreed to spend only ten more minutes looking when Elsie spied a dress that was clearly located in the wrong place. It was an elegant, understated piece, hanging in the midst of a sea of flashy, showy, awful things. Elsie and Beryl hadn't seen anything like it in all their searching._

" _What about this one?" Elsie asked as she pulled it off the rack and held it up for Beryl's inspection._

" _Oh, Elsie! That's it! That's '_ _ **the one**_ _'!" declared Beryl._

" _How do you know that? I haven't even tried it on! We don't know if it's even the right size!" Elsie pointed out._

" _I can tell just by looking. It_ _ **is**_ _your size. Go ahead and check the tag. I'm sure of it," Beryl insisted. "And I can picture you in it. You look gorgeous."_

 _As it turned out, Beryl was correct: the dress_ _ **was**_ _the proper size, and Elsie_ _ **did**_ _look stunning. The seamstress took some measurements and placed a few pins here and there, assuring Elsie that only very minor alterations would be required. Elsie made an appointment to return for a final fitting and to pick up the finished product, and she and Beryl went out for an early dinner and a celebratory drink. Elsie's cheerful mood waned somewhat when Beryl informed her that one evening during the coming week, they would be going shopping for shoes, accessories, and "frilly underthings."_

In recounting the tale to Peter and Charles, Elsie tactfully omitted the part about the frilly underthings and concluded by saying, "Beryl really is a dear. Without her encouragement, I very well might have ended up wearing something from my closet. But I really am pleased with what we chose."

"I'm sure you'll look wonderful," gushed Charles.

"Doesn't she always? I can't tell you how many guys have asked me for my ' _sister's_ ' phone number so they could ask her out!" Peter added.

Elsie laughed. "Now you're just making things up, you daft lad!"

But Peter persisted. "No, it's true!"

And Charles was indignant. "Well, from now on, you just point them in my direction, and I'll give them an earful!"

Before Charles could get too wound up, Peter changed the subject. "And you found a house, too, right? That must be exciting!"

"Yes," Elsie said. "I think you'll like it. We'll show you later if you'd like. We haven't formally closed on the deal yet, so we don't have the keys to get inside, but you can see it from the outside, and we might be able to peek in the windows."

"Great!" cried Peter enthusiastically. "And what about your flats at Downton? Will you just give them up?"

"Well, I won't be needing _mine_ anymore, so yes," Charles told him.

"As for mine – _ours_ , Peter – I thought you might like to make the place yours when you come back for good. I'm sure you could choose a new flat if you'd like – there are several available on campus – but it's up to you."

"Well, given the choice, I think I'd like to live at home, then. I haven't really _lived_ there for any length of time since I've been away at college or grad school – except to stay for short time when I've come home for a visit – but it's still _home_. For one thing, it will be easier all around, for everyone. But besides that, I like it there; I'm comfortable. And I just don't like the idea of someone else living in the place where I grew up."

"Well, I guess it's settled, then!" said Elsie decisively. And that was that.

After brunch and dessert, the trio took a nice, long walk. It was a pleasantly mild, mostly sunny spring day, and so they wandered through the neighborhood streets between the restaurant and the campus of Downton, taking a circuitous route back home. Charles and Elsie took Peter past the house that would soon be theirs, and he approved wholeheartedly. They spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening chatting and visiting in Elsie's flat, and the time seemed to fly by all too quickly. Before they knew it, it was time to leave for the airport. Charles drove Peter there, and Elsie went along for the ride, wanting to spend as much time as possible with her son. When Charles and Elsie dropped Peter off in the departures area, their parting was bittersweet: they lamented the fact they wouldn't see each other for a nearly a month, but they took comfort in the knowledge that after that time, Peter would be back in Chicago for good.

Upon arriving back at Downton, Charles parked his car and walked Elsie to her door.

"This has been such a marvelous day," Elsie said as she stood in Charles's arms. "Thank you for everything, love."

"Nonsense," Charles demurred. "What I said earlier was true. I just helped facilitate the visit. It was Peter who made the greater effort to come and see you."

"Well, then I thank you for your part in it."

"You're welcome. You know I'd do anything to make you happy."

"You do make me happy – _very_ happy!"

"And I intend to keep making you happier and happier," vowed Charles.

Elsie dissented. "I'm not sure that's possible. I'm pretty happy as things stand right now."

"Oh, but this is just the beginning," Charles promised. "Just you wait." And to underscore his point, he checked to see that no one was about, pulled her into the shadows, and kissed her soundly.

Later that night, as Elsie prepared for bed, she received a text from Peter. He informed her that he'd gotten back safely, told her that he missed her already, and assured her that she really was the world's best mum. Elsie wasn't sure she was the world's best mother, but she was absolutely certain that she had the world's best son.

 **A/N * Balena is a real place, and it does have a highly acclaimed Mother's Day brunch.**

 **** Lincoln Park is the name of the neighborhood in Chicago where I imagine that Downton Academy is located.**

 **I would really love to hear from you, if you feel so inclined as to leave a review. Thanks in advance!**

 **Also, if you're looking for a good laugh from a wacky crack!fic, check out the last chapter of "Brown Chicken, Brown Cow," written by Chelsie Dagger and me. (Yes, that's a shameless plug for our latest little bit of demented humor.)**

 **Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there who are reading! May you and your families be blessed today and always.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N After I posted the last chapter, I realized that Peter would probably want to see Charles and Elsie's new house, so I went back and added a part. Also, Peter is going to live in Elsie's flat when he moves back to Chicago, because Elsie and Charles will be moving into their new house. It's not really critical that you go back and read that part; I've just told you about it. (But feel free if you'd like to.)**

 **I'm grateful for your continued support. I know it's been a long journey, but we're nearing the end. Thanks for traveling with me.**

 _Thursday, May 12, 2016_

At 6:30 Thursday morning, Charles arrived at Elsie's door to walk her to school as usual, and she greeted him with her customary kiss to his cheek.

"Good morning, beautiful lady," he said. "If you happen to be walking in my direction, might I escort you to wherever it is you're going?"

She laughed. "You know very well where I'm going! And since we're both going to the same place at the same time, I'd have a hard time declining your offer, even if I wanted to! But I would never refuse your handsome, charming company."

He took her school bag and carried it for her, even though it wasn't very heavy. As they walked the few hundred yards between Elsie's flat and the school building, they chatted about this and that: wedding plans, upcoming end-of-the-school-year events, things that their students had done or said, and news about various staff members. When they arrived in the reception area of the main office at school, they greeted Gwen at the front desk and then a few others who were standing around engaged in conversation. Proceeding through the administrative suite, they made their way to Elsie's office. Charles set both of their bags down and fetched them some coffee. Once he was sure Elsie was situated at her desk and had everything she needed, he dropped a kiss to her forehead, gathered his things, and went to his own office to settle in for the day.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

At mid-morning, when Elsie presented herself at Charles's office for their quotidian coffee break, she found Mary Crawley just leaving.

"Oh, hello, Miss Crawley! It's not often you pay us a visit here in administration, but it's always nice to see you," said Elsie politely.

"Thank you, Ms. Hughes. It's good to see you, too," Mary returned, just as politely, if a bit stiffly. "It's been a slow day over in the business office, so I thought I'd pop in here and say hello to Mr. Carson. I must say: it makes me smile to see you both so happy. Wedding plans must be coming along nicely, then?"

"Oh, yes. Everything's falling into place," Elsie informed her. "Won't be long now."

"No, indeed. Just a few more weeks. But I'll leave you to it now. I presume you've come to take a coffee break with your fiancé," said Mary, gesturing to the cups in Elsie's hands.

"You presume correctly," Charles told her, coming to take one of the cups from Elsie.

"Well, then. Thank you for the chat, Mr. Carson. Ms. Hughes, please give my regards to Peter. I understand he was here on Sunday. I'm sorry to have missed him," said Mary.

"I'm sure he's disappointed not to have seen you. I'll give him your best when I speak to him," promised Elsie.

"Thank you. Enjoy your coffee and the rest of your day." And with that, Mary left and closed Charles's door behind her.

"Well!" exclaimed Elsie as she and Charles took their customary seats at his table. "Miss Crawley was certainly very pleasant today."

"And why should that surprise you? Miss Crawley is _always_ very pleasant," Charles argued in defense of the young woman for whom he'd always had a soft spot.

"To _you_ , perhaps," said Elsie. Charles opened his mouth argue, but Elsie help up her hand to stop him. "I will admit: it seems our legal counsel has had a softening effect on her, and I find her much more agreeable of late."

"It's true. I do think she and Mr. Crawley are becoming quite fond of one another," Charles added. "But she's always been a sweet girl. I remember a time – she must have been about nine or ten years old, year five, I think – and she had that awful Miss Reed. Do you remember her?"

" _Do I?!_ Good riddance to THAT one! She was nothing but trouble!" recalled Elsie.

"Which is precisely why we replaced her in very short order," Charles said pointedly. "Anyway, one day little Mary came running into my office sobbing her heart out. She'd had a disagreement with Miss Reed."

Elsie arched her eyebrow. "Why does that not surprise me?"

Charles ignored Elsie's sassy remark and continued. "The children were studying the American War of Independence, and Miss Reed was ... less than sympathetic towards King George III and the British."

"Let me guess. Young Miss Crawley was less than sympathetic towards Mr. Washington, Mr. Jefferson, and the rest of the colonists?"

"Perhaps so," Charles allowed. "So I sent word to Miss Reed, telling her that I had her truant student in my custody and that Mary would be with me for the rest of the afternoon. I calmed Mary down and asked her to tell me what was wrong. She told me she'd made up her mind to quit school – didn't see any point in continuing if she already knew more than her teacher. I explained that her quitting school would certainly prove awkward for her parents.

"I took the poor girl to the kitchen and sweet-talked Ms. Patmore into giving us some ice cream. Then I took Mary to sit in on an upper-level European history class as well as a US history class. She was fascinated. She also agreed that there might be one or two things she had yet to learn.

"But then, I had to go to a meeting, so I left her with Alice for an hour. By the time I went back to Alice's office to get Mary, Alice had taught her to use a spreadsheet, and the little sweetheart sat there, typing away, entering figures into the school's budget for overhead expenses. Even at that tender age, she had a head for figures and a keen sense for business. After that day, she often visited Alice once her classes were finished for the day."

"That explains why she ended up in finance and how she became our business manager. But what happened with Miss Reed?" Elsie wanted to know.

"Well, at the end of the day, I had to return Mary to Miss Reed's class. I smoothed things over, and we resolved the situation by agreeing to schedule a class debate for the next week. Mary and two of her classmates took the position of the British, and three opposing students represented the colonists," Charles elaborated.

"And I'll wager that _that_ contest had a different outcome from that of the actual war!" Elsie guessed.

"It did. Mary and her team put forth a rather compelling case. They were quite persuasive, and the rest of their classmates were quite convinced. Mary made a stirring closing argument, complete with "God save the King" playing in the background. Even Miss Reed had to yield on several points, and Mary and her cohorts were declared the winners."

Elsie smiled and shook her head. "Only Mary Crawley could rewrite history!"

"After that, she didn't stop challenging her teachers, but when she did, she did so more respectfully – and with greater effect. And in thanks for my help, she gave me a picture she'd drawn." Charles went to his desk, pulled a yellowed paper from one of the drawers, and handed it to Elsie as he sat back down.

As Elsie studied the image before her, she let out a surprised laugh; the picture was equally amusing and amazing. "It's the colonists surrendering to Cornwallis at Yorktown! That's incredible detail for a ten-year-old!"

"It is! She'd clearly studied the subject at length. _And_ … she claimed the British lost only because they mismanaged their troops and resources. She asked Alice to help her make a spreadsheet to show how England should have won, had they managed things properly."

"What a precocious child! And to think I was completely unaware of all this!" marveled Elsie as she returned the picture to Charles and he set it aside.

"I believe, my dear, that you were rather busy with _your own_ precocious child. That was around the time young Peter started winning all those science fairs and Science Olympiads."

"Yes, it was."

"He'll make a great teacher, you know," Charles offered. "You can be proud."

Elsie corrected him. " _We_ can be proud."

Charles smiled and glanced at the clock on his wall. "I'm afraid we'll have to continue our discussion over lunch. It's almost time for class."

Reluctantly, they rose, gathered their things, and headed off to teach their classes. When they parted ways in the hallway outside their classrooms, Charles handed Elsie her books, papers, and laptop (which he always carried for her), and she kissed his cheek in thanks. The kiss had been part their routine since they'd become engaged, and by now all of their students had observed this chaste gesture of affection. Yet without fail, every day, some young girl giggled or a boy sniggered, and the unfortunate offender was met with dual scowls from the headmaster and headmistress. Today it was _two_ students who laughed, a girl _and_ a boy, and Charles and Elsie glowered at them _twice_ as hard. Still, the happy couple couldn't help the fact that their matching stern expressions melted into soft eyes and warm smiles when they gazed at each other one last time before disappearing into their respective classrooms.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

That afternoon, Charles came to Elsie's office for "tea," which was no longer actually "tea" in Charles's case. Ever since he'd revealed to Elsie that he didn't really like tea (and drank it only because every respectable Englishman _should_ drink tea), she'd begun assisting him in publicly keeping up his ruse. Every day before their usual afternoon tea time, Elsie would go and prepare two half-cups of tea in the teachers' lounge and bring them back to her office. But after Charles arrived and her door was closed, she would pull out a bottle of sparkling water, one that she'd brought from home in a small insulated sack with a cold pack, stashed away in her school bag. And Charles would sip the water while Elsie would drink both cups of tea. Today, he arrived to find her marking papers while she waited for him.

"Hello, love. I've missed you since lunchtime," he said, bending to kiss her cheek.

She stood from her desk to greet him. "I've missed you, too. It's been over two hours!"

She took his bottle of water from her bag and set it down on the table, where the two cups of tea sat waiting.

"So we're all set for the flurry of activity during the next two weeks? Anything else we need to do?" Elsie asked as they took their seats.

"No, I think we're in good shape," Charles assured her.

"Ms. Patmore submitted the menu for the awards banquet. I put it in your inbox earlier. You can take a look, but I think it's fine."

"And I spoke with Mr. Travis about the baccalaureate prayer service. We finalized all the arrangements."

For a few minutes longer, they spoke of school business, sometimes holding hands or brushing knees, but soon Charles had to excuse himself to get back to work. He thanked her for the "tea" and promised to see her later.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Charles went to Elsie's office at the end of the day, intending to walk her home. He found her with Beryl.

"Ah. Hello, ladies," he offered in greeting. "Ms. Patmore, are you leaving now, too? I can walk both of you home if you'd like."

Beryl answered cautiously. "Thank you, Mr. Carson, but Ms. Hughes and I have to tend to some business this evening."

"What sort of business?" asked Charles innocently. "Wedding business? Might I help?"

"No! You most certainly may _not_ help with _this_ business!" Elsie answered, a little too sharply.

Charles looked hurt.

"What Ms. Hughes means is that it's _girl_ business," said Beryl, trying to be tactful and diplomatic. " _Woman_ stuff, you see. A feminine matter."

Elsie buried her crimson face in her hands.

But Charles pressed on obliviously. "What sort of 'feminine matter'? You've chosen your dress. You've spoken to the Crawley ladies about the decorations and favors. We've chosen the dinner menu, the cake, and the sweets. And we're to meet with old Mr. Molesley next week about the flowers. What else can there be? Surely – " Charles inhaled sharply as realization dawned. "Oh! … You mean … ? Oh, I see. Right. Well, then. I'll be on my way."

He nodded brusquely to Beryl, quickly kissed Elsie on the cheek, and made his escape.

"Well, that was just mortifying!" exclaimed Elsie when Charles was out of earshot.

"Oh, come, now. It's not all that bad. Whatever we choose, he's going to see it eventually," Beryl rationalized. "That's the whole point!"

"Yes, but it's not 'eventually' _yet_. And our talking about it _now_ and his _knowing_ about it … Well, it's just … uncomfortable, to say the least."

"Come on, then, love. Let's go and find you something pretty."

And Beryl chivvied Elsie out the door.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Twenty minutes later, Elsie and Beryl stood in the middle of Underthings*, an exclusive, upscale lingerie boutique just a few blocks from Downton. They wore big, floppy hats and dark sunglasses lest they be recognized by anyone they knew.

"Hello, ladies! Can I help you with something?" asked a chipper young salesgirl.

"I'm sure you can, dear, in a little while," answered Beryl. "But not just yet. We'd like to have ourselves a little look around first."

"Of course. Just let me know if you need anything," said the associate, and she left the ladies on their own.

"Beryl, are you sure we should be here?" Elsie worried as she tried to hide behind a rack. "Maybe I can order something from a catalog or a website."

"No, no!" Beryl replied. "That will never do. We need to see the real article, and you need to try it on. _Everything_ in those catalogs and on those websites looks gorgeous when it's photoshopped onto on a twenty-year-old, five-foot-ten, hundred-and-fifteen-pound model! But the real thing never quite lives up to the picture, does it?"

"I suppose you're right," Elsie sighed resignedly. "Let's get on with it, then."

And they began to look around in earnest.

"Oh, my. _Who on earth_ would wear _that_?" asked Beryl, pointing in astonishment at something she couldn't even identify.

"More importantly, _how_ would one wear that? On what part of the body does it go?" Elsie questioned, similarly flummoxed. She tilted her head this way and that. "Is it … upside-down, maybe? Never mind. I don't really want to know."

"Right. This is clearly the area meant for promiscuous young things. We need the 'refined ladies of respectable standing' section. Let's go over there. That must be the 'elegant' department."

To their mutual relief, the women did find some more tasteful items. At length, with Beryl's help, Elsie chose an ensemble to wear under her wedding dress and on the wedding night and a few additional pieces suitable for the honeymoon.

As Elsie stood at the register checking out with her purchases, Beryl elbowed her urgently and whispered, "Elsie! Elsie! Finish up, and let's get out of here quickly!"

"Why? What's wrong?" Elsie asked with mild concern.

"Don't look now, but …" Beryl shifted her eyes and inclined her head, drawing Elsie's attention to the "promiscuous young things" area of the store, where Gladys Denker-Spratt was happily perusing some of the racier items on the racks.

"Oh, dear! Right you are," Elsie said.

She completed her purchase as quickly as possible, and she and Beryl made a beeline for the door, bursting into a fit of giggles as soon as they were safely outside.

"Don't be too relieved," warned Elsie once she was calm enough to speak. "We'll be back here soon enough to find something for _you_ after Bill pops the question!"

"Cheeky!" cried Beryl, swatting Elsie's arm.

"Let's go and have ourselves a drink. I think we need one after that!" Elsie suggested, and Beryl was quick to agree.

 **A/N This chapter was intended to provide a peek at a typical school day now that Elsie and Charles are engaged … so that you can compare it to a previous, typical day before they got together (see chapter 2 of the main part of the story). I also wanted to include a parallel story to the canon "young Mary running-away-with-the-silver/sixpence/kiss" story, which is one of my favorites.**

 ***A kind reviewer, reading teacher88, requested after the last chapter that I let you in on the underwear shopping. I hadn't originally planned to write that part, but when I discovered that there indeed exists in Lincoln Park, right in the area where I imagine Downton Academy to be, a real, actual, honest-to-goodness, true-life lingerie boutique called "Underthings," I just couldn't resist. Visions of Elsie and Beryl wearing big hats and dark glasses and covertly picking through racks of intimate apparel (some tasteful and some not) were too good to pass up. Some friendly encouragement from libbybell (putmeinyourpocketmike) also helped.**

 **Please leave a review if you can. Your reactions and feedback stoke the fires of creativity and inspiration. I will try to respond to all reviews as soon as I'm able, but this website has been acting badly again, so I can't guarantee anything. The folks in charge will fix the bug(s) eventually, but I don't know how long that might take.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Thanks very much to all of you who continue to support my story. It's gratifying to have a small but dedicated group who stick with me and continue to offer encouragement. Special shout-out to guest reviewers whom I can't thank personally or individually.**

 _Sunday, May 22, 2016_

For the past several weeks, Elsie and Charles had spent their school days engrossed in end-of-the-academic-year business: matters of scheduling, the leavers' ball, final examinations, awards ceremonies, graduation activities, and other such events. And they'd spent every weekend and many weekday evenings getting things in order for their wedding and for the move to their new house.

Almost all of the wedding details had been arranged. Elsie had purchased her dress, and Charles had arranged suits for himself and Peter. Charles and Elsie had secured the services of a photographer and had gone to a jeweler and chosen wedding bands. They'd arranged decorations and favors with Isobel Crawley, Cora Crawley, and the three Crawley daughters, all of whom who were eager to help. The couple had met with Beryl to choose food for the reception. She'd be working with the Crawleys' usual caterers, who had graciously agreed to an unusual request: they would allow Beryl to choose the menu and to provide the recipes and cooking instructions, while their staff would perform the actual set-up, preparations, serving, and clean-up. Initially, she had wanted to do more of the actual work – the cooking itself; but Charles and Elsie had insisted they didn't want her to be so busy on the wedding day that she couldn't enjoy the festivities, and she could hardly argue with that. The engaged pair had talked to William Molesley and selected flowers for Elsie's bouquet, corsages for the rest of the women, boutonnières for Charles and the other men, flowers and greenery for the chapel, and centerpieces for the tables at the reception. Elsie and Charles had also spoken with Bill Mason about preparing the faculty dining hall for the reception and about setting up another area: an outdoor area in the school's spacious courtyard that would have some tables, a bar, an area for dancing, and a small raised platform to serve as a sort of stage. And finally, Charles and Elsie had spoken to William Mason and Jimmy Kent about music. William had been happy to be asked to play the chapel's organ for the ceremony. Using his connections in musical circles, he also had engaged a trumpeter and a violinist to accompany him during the ceremony, a string quartet to play during dinner, and a twelve-piece orchestra with two vocalists – one man and one woman – to play and sing for the after-dinner dancing. Jimmy Kent had offered to have his band play in the outdoor area for the younger crowd. He was the lead singer and guitarist for a group that was fairly popular on weekend nights at local clubs; they played cover versions of well-known songs as well as many of their own original pieces. Though Charles wasn't keen on the idea of loud music with a driving rhythm at his wedding reception (or on school grounds at all, for that matter), Elsie had convinced him that their more junior guests would appreciate it, and the two had accepted Jimmy's kind offer with sincere appreciation.

And the house was nearly habitable, as well. Charles and Elsie had closed the deal on the purchase of their new home and had hired workmen to make some minor changes: painters to change the color schemes in a few rooms, a plumber to change the bathroom fixtures in the powder room, an electrician to replace the light fixtures in the bedrooms, and carpenters to install wainscoting in the downstairs hallway. They both had packed up many of their personal items from their flats, and they'd lined up William Mason, Andy Parker, and Alfred Nugent to help them move the few favorite pieces of furniture they planned to take with them when the time came. They'd gone shopping for all the other furniture they would need and had scheduled its delivery. Choosing a bed had been slightly uncomfortable, as both had struggled valiantly to keep the discussion (and the thoughts inspired thence) from becoming too suggestive; but they'd managed to get through it. Elsie had even dragged Charles shopping for draperies, linens, and other decorative items in which he'd pretended to have little interest. That little adventure had been blessedly brief, as he'd readily replied, "Yes, dear," to all of her suggestions. The truth was that Charles actually did care about such things quite a bit more than he would ever let on, but he trusted Elsie's taste so implicitly – and in fact mirrored it so closely with his own – that anything she would ever choose would meet with his approval.

They had also made travel and lodging provisions for their honeymoon. Each had had a separate notion for the destination – something _the other_ would enjoy – and they finally settled on a combination of both ideas. Plane tickets had been purchased, hotels rooms had been reserved, and other accommodations had been arranged.

With all those matters in order, only a few details remained. The couple's task for today was to meet with Reverend Travis after services and brunch; and currently, Elsie and Charles sat in his office, finalizing the particulars of their rapidly approaching wedding ceremony.

"That should cover everything, I think," said Mr. Travis. "You've chosen to keep things simple and traditional, and so that makes it easier for all of us. It should be very straightforward. Do you have any other questions for me?"

"No, I don't think so," answered Elsie.

"No," Charles echoed. "I think we're all set."

"Well, then. Enjoy the rest of your day!" Mr. Travis offered as he stood from behind the desk in his office.

"Thank you for your time, Reverend Travis," said Elsie, rising from her chair and shaking his hand.

"We appreciate your meeting with us," Charles said, also standing and shaking the man's hand.

"My pleasure," said the good vicar.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

After Elsie and Charles left Mr. Travis's office, they wandered about the grounds of Downton, arm-in-arm, marveling at the elder Mr. Molesley's green thumb and admiring the newly blossoming fruits of his labors. After recent spring rains, the greenery was full and lush, and the flowers were blooming beautifully. The whole landscape was impeccably manicured, with every blade of grass and each leaf in its proper place. The sun, gentle breeze, and pleasant temperature complemented the natural beauty and made it a perfect day for a Sunday stroll around campus.

After a time, Charles asked Elsie, "So what shall we do with the rest of this beautiful afternoon?"

"I'm not sure," she answered him. "Do you have any recommendations?"

"I do have one, actually," he told her. "But I'm not sure how you'll feel about it."

"Try me," she challenged.

"Would you like to visit Alice's grave with me?" He looked uncertain and rushed to continue. "I used to visit regularly, but it's been less frequent lately. Is it too awkward for me to ask you to go to the cemetery with me? I mean … taking my fiancée to the cemetery to visit my late wife's grave?"

"No, I don't think it's awkward, love. It might be a bit _unusual_ … under other, _more traditional_ circumstances," she allowed. "But our whole situation is hardly conventional. Remember: she was _my_ friend, too."

"So you'll go with me?"

"Of course."

"And it won't seem morose? You won't think I'm pining away for her or anything like that?" Charles worried. "I don't want you to think I'm sad, because I'm _not_ sad anymore. You need to know how happy you make me and how much I love you."

"I _do_ know that. I don't doubt it for a moment, because I feel the same way," Elsie assured him. "And I think it's an excellent idea to go together. I'm pleased that you asked." And she squeezed his hand and leaned against him to emphasize the sentiment.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A short time later, they stood in the familiar spot at Graceland Cemetery and Arboretum*. Elsie bent down and placed a bunch of flowers near the marker engraved with Alice's name. When she stood back up next to Charles, she pressed herself into his side, and he wrapped his arm around her. They stood in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both deep in thought.

"What do you think she makes of all this? _Us_ , I mean – _together_?" Elsie asked Charles after a while.

"I'm sure she's pleased," Charles stated without hesitation. "I've never told you this … I've never told _anyone_. But just before she died, she made me vow not to be consumed by my grief … to give her my word that I'd go on living. She said she knew how much I loved her, but she urged me not to close myself off to the rest of the world after she was gone."

"I'm not surprised to hear that," Elsie replied. "When she was hospitalized that last time, just before she passed, she asked me to look after you. She worried that you would brood or wallow in your sorrow … become bitter or despondent. She knew how much love you had to give, and she wanted to be sure that love didn't stay locked up inside."

"For a long time, I _did_ shut out everyone and everything around me. It took me ten years to carry through on my promise," lamented Charles. "Do you remember when you helped me go through her things and we found that letter?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, Alice had written that letter shortly after we found out just how ill she was. In it, she told me she intended to extract an oath from me, and she said she expected me to honor it. She urged me to go on living and to go on loving. She'd written the letter for me to find later because she feared I'd need reminding, and as always, she was right."

"And it was shortly after you read the letter that you began to reveal your feelings to me!" marveled Elsie.

"I took it as a sort of permission, and I finally allowed myself to acknowledge and act on what I'd begun to feel for you."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you did, because you've made me very happy." She wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him.

"You've made me happy, too," he said as he kissed the top of her head. "I'd despaired of ever being happy again – of ever loving or being loved for the rest of my life. My heart was broken. But you helped me piece it back together … and now it's yours."

"And I promise always to keep it safe," she vowed, "just as I know you'll keep mine safe."

Another pensive silence ensued as they stood embracing. But after a time, Charles spoke again. "I have another suggestion," he ventured. "When we're in England, will you take me to Joe's grave?"

Elsie was surprised. "Really? You'd like to see it? You didn't even know him."

"But I _do_ know him," Charles insisted. "I know him through you and Peter. You both are who you are partly because of him. And it might sound strange to say, but I'm grateful to him for taking such good care of you both before I came along."

A tear formed in the corner of Elsie's eye. "That's a very sweet thing to say. And in the same way, I'm glad Alice was so good to you, too."

"It's true. She made me a better man," Charles said humbly.

"I think it would be more accurate to say … she fostered and nurtured the kind, gentle heart you've always had. And now it's _my_ turn to take over that task." And Elsie kissed the spot on Charles's chest under which his heart lay.

"I must be the luckiest man ever – somehow to have won the love of _both_ of you: the two most remarkable women I've ever met."

"Also the two _smartest_ women you'll ever meet. Alice recognized a good man when she came across him, and so do I."

"Come on, then, smart lady. I'd like to buy my best girl an ice cream and take her for a walk along the lakefront."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The twosome sat at Bobtail Ice Cream Company**, enjoying their frozen confections. Charles had ordered a single scoop of Signature Sunset*** – Merlot ice cream with dark chocolate chips – and had polished it off in record time, claiming he just couldn't abide letting it melt. He was now helping Elsie finish the enormous banana split she'd ordered with the expectation that she'd end up sharing it with her intended.

"This is nice," commented Charles between mouthfuls.

"It is," Elsie agreed. "Sharing a sundae with my beau on a lovely afternoon like this makes me feel young again."

"Elsie, you can't say 'young _again_ ' when you've never grown old in the first place," he stated in all seriousness.

"Well, I shall accept your compliment in the spirit in which it was offered," she said, "and I'm pleased that you believe it, though I disagree with your assessment."

"And I shall take that as a challenge and endeavor to prove to you that you are still in the first flush of youth." He leaned closer to whisper his next words in her ear, "However, I fear I must wait until we're married before I can use _all_ of the means at my disposal to thoroughly convince you."

Her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of rose when she replied, "Oh, my! Suddenly, it feels quite a bit warmer. We'd better finish this ice cream!"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

As they sauntered contentedly along the lakefront path in the early evening, Elsie's phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her handbag and was happy to see she'd received a text message from Peter. She became curious when she registered the content of the message: _Hi, Mum!_ _Hey, do you think you and Pop can squeeze in one more person at the wedding?_

She showed Charles and then quickly texted back: _I'm sure we can. Why?_

Peter's reply came almost immediately: _I'd like to bring someone … if that's ok. I can promise you'll love her. *I* certainly do._

Elsie's eyebrows shot up, and she held the phone out for Charles to see. Then she pulled him by the hand to an unoccupied bench in a quiet spot alongside the path where they'd been walking.

"This demands a phone call. Maybe even a video chat," she said as they seated themselves. Elsie tapped her phone's screen a few times, and an image of Peter's smiling face appeared.

"Hi, Mum!" he greeted her cheerily.

"Peter Burns! Don't you 'Hi, Mum!' me! Explain yourself, young man." She pretended to be stern, but the beginnings of a smile tugged at her lips, and the softness in her voice betrayed her gentle teasing.

"Oh, hi, Pop! You're there, too. Good," said Peter when his video feed showed Charles peeking over Elsie's shoulder.

"Hello, lad," Charles said. "I think you'd better tell us what's going on. Your poor mum's growing pretty impatient in her curiosity. Now, tell us about your young lady."

"Well, you know her, actually," explained Peter. "Do you remember Claire Dawes?"

"Goodness!" cried Elsie. "How could we forget? Except for you, she was probably our best student ever."

"Yes – and my biggest competition at Downton. Only I could never quite dislike her or be jealous or wish her ill, because she was always so nice."

"She was," Elsie agreed. "A real sweetheart, that one."

"Still is," Peter added. "I'd lost touch with her for a while. While I was at Stanford, she was at Johns Hopkins. But she's been at Harvard Medical School while I've been here at MIT, and we've come across each other at various events here and there. I've always liked her, and so I finally asked her out. We've gone on a few dates, and … " He trailed off, unsure how to explain the situation.

Luckily his mother understood. "And things are going well, then?" she nudged gently.

" _Very_ ," Peter confirmed. "She'll graduate this week, and she's invited me to attend all the festivities with her family."

"That's lovely!" Elsie remarked.

"It is. And the _best_ part of it all is that she's moving back home to Chicago to do her internship and residency at Northwestern," Peter informed Elsie and Charles.

"Well, that's fortunate," added Charles. "So we can assume we'll be seeing a lot of Miss Dawes when you move back?"

"You'll see her sooner than that, actually," Peter clarified. "She's getting ready to move, just like me, but I've asked her to stick around until next week and come to my hooding ceremony and graduation with you two and Gran and Auntie Becky. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all!" Elsie was quick to assure him. "That will be nice."

For the next ten minutes, Peter told Elsie and Charles all about Claire. Claire had attended Downton with Peter, and the two had always been at the top of their class, engaged in a friendly competition with an underlying mutual respect. During that time, Charles and Elsie had both taught Claire, so they knew her reasonably well. But after graduation, Peter and Claire had gone their separate ways and had had little contact until the last year or two. Elsie and Charles were pleased to hear Peter relate how he'd come to be reacquainted with Claire and how he'd grown quite fond of her. He spoke of her in glowing terms, and Charles and Elsie recognized in Peter all the tell-tale signs of a young man who was hopelessly smitten.

As they wrapped up their phone conversation, Peter had a request: "Pop, I might need to talk to you at some point for some dating advice."

"Me?" Charles asked. "I'm no Romeo, you know."

"You must be doing _something_ right," Peter observed. "Just look at the beautiful woman you've got yourself!"

Charles chuckled. "It's true I've got myself a real beauty, but I've done nothing to deserve her. She's just taken pity on a poor old man; that's all."

"All the same, you'll be available for some guy-talk if I need your help, right?" Peter asked.

"If my limited knowledge and experience can be of any help, then I'll do what I can," Charles promised. "But I doubt you'll need much help. _Any_ young lady in her right mind would be thrilled to be the object of your attentions, and _your_ young lady is a smart one. I'm sure she knows a good thing when she sees it."

"I know I can always count on you, Pop. Thanks. But speaking of dating, I'd better let you two get back to what you were doing. It looks like I've interrupted a romantic lakefront stroll on a beautiful evening," Peter apologized.

Elsie dismissed Peter's concern with a wave of her hand. "Oh, it's fine. The lake's not going anywhere. It will still be there when we get back to our walk."

"Well, I'll talk to you soon, then," Peter said.

"All right, lad. Love you," returned Elsie.

Peter smiled and blew a kiss into the phone. "Love you, too, Mum. Bye, Pop."

"Goodbye, son," said Charles. "And please give our regards to Claire."

"Will do," promised Peter, grinning broadly.

After Elsie tapped the red button to end the call, she turned to Charles and let out a sigh. "Well! That was certainly unexpected!"

"It was," Charles agreed. "But it was a pleasant surprise. He certainly sounded happy."

"He did. I don't think I've ever heard him talk about a girl quite like _that_!"

"But you _are_ pleased, right?"

Elsie was silent for a moment, looking down at her lap.

Charles put his fingers under her chin and gently turned her face toward him. "Hey, what's all this?" he asked.

"You'll think it's silly."

"I doubt that."

"Even _I_ think it's silly," she told him. "I'm happy for Peter. Truly, I am. But the truth is … I'm a bit jealous. For twenty-six years, I've had him all to myself. And now … "

"Oh, darling!" Charles wrapped his arm around Elsie and kissed her temple. "That lad's got _more_ than enough love to go around. This isn't going to make him love you any less. Did your love for him diminish at all when you fell in love with me?"

She sniffed, casting her eyes down again. "No, of course not."

"Well, then. There you have it."

"I suppose you're right," Elsie agreed with a sigh.

"Sometimes I am," Charles teased before turning serious again. "Elsie, when we chose our new home, we spoke of grandchildren: bedrooms for them to spend the night, a yard for them to play … How do you think those grandchildren are going to come along if Peter doesn't find himself a suitable mother for his children?"

"Will you please stop making so much sense?" Elsie joked as she warmed to the idea and her equilibrium returned.

"Sorry."

"And it does help tremendously that we already know Claire and that she's such a doll," Elsie conceded. "I imagine I'd be a lot more upset if he brought home a complete stranger or someone I didn't like. If he's got to date anyone at all, I'm glad she's the one."

"That's my girl!" said Charles encouragingly. He looked pointedly into her eyes. "And I'd like to point out something else. A relationship that starts out as friendship based on mutual respect and admiration is sure to have a solid foundation. At least that's been _my_ experience."

Elsie gave him a bright smile. "Why must you always be so wise?"

"It comes from spending time with you, I think. Occasionally, I learn a thing or two."

"Come on, then." She stood from the bench and tugged on his hand so that he rose, too. "The sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, and the birds are singing. Let's finish our walk."

 **A/N *Graceland Cemetery and Arboretum is a real place, very near the real location of the fictional Downton Academy campus. (I've mentioned it before as Alice's final resting place.)**

 ****Bobtail Ice Cream Company is an actual place, too.**

 ***** Signature Sunset is a real flavor: Merlot ice cream with dark chocolate chips. I didn't make it up. If there's wine-flavored ice cream, you** _ **know**_ **that's what Charles is going to have!**

 ****** The portion of the Chicago Lakefront Trail (the whole of which stretches nearly 20 miles along Lake Michigan) that passes through Lincoln Park is a very pleasant place for a leisurely stroll. In fact,** _ **all**_ **of Lincoln Park is pretty scenic.**

 **Please see my tumblr post for pictures of all these places.**

 **Special thanks to evitamockingbird and ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, who offered their input on aspects of this chapter.**

 **I'm sorry it's been so long between updates. I'll try to do better with the next few chapters. Just so you know what's coming, we'll have the arrival of Elsie's sister and mother, the introduction of Claire, Peter's graduation, a hen party and stag night, and the wedding day and wedding night. I don't mean to pull a Fellowes, but I'm not sure how much of the honeymoon we'll actually see in detail.**

 **Reviews have been falling off somewhat over the last few chapters, and I've been struggling to keep this story going; and so for both of those reasons, I will probably wrap this up sooner as opposed to later, before we all lose interest entirely. I promise to still provide what I hope will be a satisfying conclusion, but every story has a natural lifespan, and I'm afraid this one is nearing the end of its days. I've lost quite a few readers/reviewers, but that's all right. I'm** _ **especially**_ **grateful those of you who remain. If you're willing and able, please drop me a line to let me know what you think. Thanks so much, friends.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N Thank you for all your continued support. I'm grateful to everyone who reads and reviews. Special appreciation goes out to my guest reviewers, whom I can't thank individually or personally. (You registered members have received and will continue to receive PM thank you messages.)**

 _Friday, May 27, 2016_

"Well, Ms. Hughes, another brood of young ones has flown the nest," remarked Charles as he and Elsie walked across campus in the evening twilight after Downton's graduation ceremony.

Elsie waxed sentimental. "They certainly have, Mr. Carson. We've done this twenty-one times now – sent off a more than a score of classes – and it never gets easier. They find their way into your heart; you grow attached to them. You teach them all you can, but then you have to let them go. You send them off into the world, hope that you've prepared them well, and pray that Providence will smile on them."

"We've been fortunate, though," he reminded her. "Providence has indeed smiled on so many of them. Our graduates have gone on to do great things."

"They've done us proud, and I don't mind admitting it!" she beamed. "And when we're especially lucky, some of them even come back to us: first the Crawley girls … some of our faculty … and now Peter."

They arrived at Elsie's door. "Well. Here we are," said Charles.

"Yes. Here we are," she sighed. "It gets harder and harder to say good night to you. I don't want you to leave."

"I don't want to leave … and I don't know how I'm going to make it through the next two weeks."

"It's a good thing we're going to be so busy! At least we'll have something to distract us."

"Right now, _nothing_ is distracting me from thinking about how beautiful you are and how badly I want to kiss you." He leaned in and kissed her, but it was a quick, chaste peck; they were mindful that the graduates and their families were still milling about campus, chatting and taking pictures, and that other faculty members were also walking home to their own flats.

She pulled away, breathless even from just such brief, light contact. "I know we need to be careful, but would you like to come inside for just a moment? So we can at least say good night properly?"

"I probably shouldn't … but I find myself unable to say no to you," he answered, already moving toward the door.

"I hope that's still the case after we've been married for thirty years!" she teased with a smirk.

She unlocked the door and let them both in. When they were both inside and she turned to close the door, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, clasping his hands at her stomach. At first, she placed her hands over his; but when he began to and nip at her ear, she reached her hands up behind her, grasped blindly at his head, and drove her fingers into his hair.

"Charles," she gasped, "I have something important to tell you."

"What is it, darling?" he panted before tracing the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue.

"I've fallen in love with you," she informed him as she lightly scratched the back of his neck with her fingernails.

"Have you?" he asked. "How fortunate! That's quite a coincidence. I happen to be in love with you, too."

"What shall we do about it?" Elsie wanted to know.

"I think we should get married," Charles told her nonchalantly between little nips to the side of her neck. "It would be the sensible thing to do."

"Would it?"

"It would."

"All right, then," she agreed. "Let's."

"When?"

"How about two weeks from tomorrow?"

"Perfect," he declared. "It's a date."

She turned in his arms to face him. "Have I told you lately how handsome you are?"

"Yes. But I wouldn't mind hearing it again. It does wonders for an old man's ego to have a gorgeous girl flatter him."

"Your hair is the most striking color of silver I've ever seen."

"It's gray," he argued.

She ignored his self-deprecating remark and continued. "And this curl right here … I love it." She wound a lock of hair from his forehead around her finger. "It makes you … somehow … softer, less stern-looking."

"No, it makes me look like a wild man, but I can't seem to tame it."

"And your eyebrows … " With the tips of her fingers, she smoothed over one eyebrow and then the other."

"Are unruly."

"Are magnificent," Elsie corrected. "And they frame the most expressive eyes I've ever known. Your eyes always give you away, you know. If I study them, I can always tell how you're feeling."

"It's no wonder I'm so transparent. I must remember that."

"Your nose is positively regal." And she nuzzled his nose with her own.

"I don't know about ' _regal_ ,' but it's certainly _prominent_ ," he said.

"And your lips drive me to distraction." She outlined his mouth with her index finger. "I find myself drawn to them and constantly wanting to kiss them."

"Funny, that. I feel the same way about yours." He demonstrated by pressing his lips to hers.

After a few seconds, she moved her mouth down to kiss his chin. "And this dimple right here … " She laid her finger in the cleft. "It deepens when you pout."

"I do not pout – ever," he stated emphatically, even while pursing his lips and sticking out his chin, giving evidence of that which he'd just denied.

She laughed and shook her head fondly.

"And now, if you're finished talking nonsense," he said, "I'd like to tell you how attractive _you_ are."

"I'm not sure I'll believe you, but you can try to convince me."

"Your hair is an enchanting shade of … of … _Elsie_. I don't know how else to describe it, because there's nothing else in the world like it. And it's so soft. Just looking at it makes me want to run my fingers through it." And he did just that, and while he did so, she tilted her head and kissed his hand.

"Your eyes … " Charles continued. "They're the brightest blue. They sparkle and dance, and I want to make you happy just so I can see your eyes light up. And I don't like to make you angry, but when you're feeling fierce, there's a fire in your eyes that both terrifies and thrills me."

Elsie smiled at him. "Well, I'm not feeling angry right now. As a matter of fact, I'm very, very happy."

"That's another thing: your smile. You could bring about world peace with that smile, I think … or charm a viper. It's heart-warming and infectious."

"I save _this particular_ smile only for you. No one else gets to see my 'Charles smile.'"

"You have a special smile just for me?" he asked.

"I do. Only _you_ can make me this happy," she declared solemnly. "I don't smile at anyone else this way."

"That's a good thing, too, because I wouldn't want _other_ men to see it and be tempted to … well, to try to do what it makes _me_ want to do!" He pinned her playfully between himself and the door and raised her hands and held them lightly against the door, one on each side of her head. She allowed herself to be thus trapped while he kissed her thoroughly.

"And do you know … " he broke off to say, "you also have the most graceful neck? Slender and smooth and utterly kissable." To illustrate his claim, he placed his lips at the hollow of her throat and kissed it softly, causing her to hum happily.

"And your alluring … _curves_ ," he continued. "I look forward to exploring them fully once we're married." He released her hands and trailed his own hands over her arms, shoulders, sides, and hips.

"And do you see these arms?" He took one of her hands, held out her arm, and planted kisses from the inside of her wrist to the inside of her elbow, subsequently favoring her other arm with the same treatment. "I'm quite fond of them. Inside their embrace is my favorite place in the whole world." And she wrapped those arms around him, pulling herself close and breathing heavily after his ministrations.

"Charles," she warned, between ragged breaths, "if we don't stop right now, you're going to seduce me, and I'll be powerless to resist."

Heaving an enormous sigh, he loosened his hold and stepped away. "You're right. I'm sorry, Elsie. I don't mean to take advantage. I'm behaving badly. I should go now."

"Don't apologize, love. It's all right. It was a near thing, but we've caught ourselves in time," she told him.

"Perhaps … " he said uncertainly, "but I still should leave. I'll call you later after I douse myself in some ice water." He gave her a quick kiss before opening the door. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She cupped his cheek and caressed it before he slipped out the door.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

An hour later, just as she was climbing into bed, Elsie's phone rang. She picked it up from her nightstand and answered: "Hello, sweetheart."

"Hello, love. I need to apologize for my earlier behavior. It wasn't very gentlemanly of me, and I feel awful about it. Can you ever forgive me?" Charles sat in his own bed in his pajamas, his hair still wet from his recent cold shower.

"There's nothing to forgive," she assured him, "and if there _is_ , then I'm just as much to blame. We're going to be married, for goodness' sake! I'd be concerned if we _weren't_ so attracted to each other!"

"Still … You deserve more respect from the man you're going to marry," he persisted. "What was I thinking?! I behaved no better than a randy teenager! If I saw one of our young lads doing that to some poor girl – "

"Charles, listen to me, and listen well. I'm not offended in the least. As a matter of fact, I'm flattered. It's nice to know I can still turn your head at my age."

"You can do more than turn my head!" he exclaimed seriously.

She laughed at his assertion. "Only two more weeks," she reminded him.

"Fifteen days," he amended woefully. "And that is fifteen days too many!"

 **A/N I realize that some of you may disagree, but I firmly believe that this particular version of Charles and Elsie in this particular setting would wait until they're married before they hop in the sack together. However, that's not to say that it would be easy for them, and so this chapter is meant to show a little bit of their struggle.**

 **We're coming fast upon the wedding! If all goes according to plan, the next chapter will be Peter's graduation, the chapter after that will be the hen party and stag night, and the chapter after that will be the wedding. So please stick around for all of that, and in the meantime, please leave a review if you would be so kind. Thanks in advance!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N Just a short chapter to acknowledge Peter's graduation and to introduce Claire, Becky, and Elsie's mother (whom I've named Margaret, for no particular reason).**

 **Thank you for your continuing support and for all the encouraging reviews and comments.**

 _Cambridge, Massachusetts_ ; _Friday, June 3, 2016_

Charles, Elsie, Peter, Claire, and Becky and Margaret Hughes sat at a table at Craigie on Main*, having dinner to celebrate Peter's graduation (and also Claire's graduation last week). Becky and Margaret had flown in to Boston for Peter's hooding ceremony and graduation and would then travel to Chicago for Elsie and Charles's wedding next week.

Charles held up his glass and offered a toast. "To _Dr._ Burns and _Dr._ Dawes."

"We couldn't be prouder of you both," Elsie said sincerely, a tear forming in the corner of one eye.

"To a solid education," amended Peter, lifting his glass.

" _And_ to the best and most supportive _teachers_ ," Claire added, looking at Elsie and Charles in turn.

"Hear, hear!" cheered Becky and Margaret, and they all raised their glasses in salute and drank.

While they waited for their food, the group chatted easily. Becky and Margaret had known Charles for some time, having first met him in England when he married Alice and then having seen him every time they visited Elsie and Peter in Chicago; and so the three spoke comfortably. And Charles and Elsie had known Claire for years, so they also enjoyed an easy familiarity. There was some talk of the wedding, but conversation centered mostly on Peter and Claire and their plans to move back to Chicago, their new jobs, and their hopes and plans for the future. Peter was diligent in ensuring that his grandmother and aunt got to know his girlfriend and that Claire found out all about his family. Claire was her usual pleasant, charming self, and at one point during the evening when Margaret was sure no one else was listening, she leaned over to her grandson, who was seated next to her, and whispered, "She's a keeper, that one!" … to which Peter smiled and replied, "Don't I know it, Gran!"

Having enjoyed a lovely dinner and dessert, the group walked around the corner and down the street to leave Elsie, Becky, and Margaret at their hotel, Le Méridien**. After a round of hugs and kisses and some proud, maternal tears from Elsie, the women went up to their suite; Charles walked back to Peter's apartment, where he was staying; and Peter walked Claire home.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Becky, Margaret, and Elsie sat up late talking in their room.

"You can be proud of Peter," Becky said. "He's done so well for himself, and he's such a good lad. As his aunt, I may be prejudiced, but that young man is something else!"

"Well, as his mother, I must be even _more_ biased, but _I_ certainly think he is!" agreed Elsie.

"And this girl of his, Claire? He's serious about her?" Becky wanted to know.

"Yes, I think he is," answered Elsie.

"And you know her well?" asked Margaret.

"I do," Elsie confirmed. "She went to school with Peter at Downton, and Charles and I both taught her. Smart as a whip – and a good girl, too. I think they're a good match. They always got on back at Downton, but they both were so young then and so serious about their studies that I'm sure they weren't thinking anything romantic at that point."

"But it seems they are _now_!" interjected Becky.

"Well, that's all right, then!" Margaret pronounced happily.

"And speaking of 'romantic,' you and Charles seem happy," Becky observed.

"We are," confirmed Elsie. She couldn't have hidden the huge smile gracing her face even if she'd wanted to.

"We can see that," Margaret said. "I haven't seen you so happy in a long time."

"I haven't _been_ so happy in a long time," Elsie said. "I wasn't _un_ happy. I had Peter and both of you and all my friends at Downton, and Charles and I were at least good friends. But I certainly wasn't as happy as I am now."

"Look at you!" cried Becky. "Smiling and blushing and sighing like a schoolgirl! He must be _some_ kisser, that man!"

"Oh, you cheeky thing!" Elsie gasped.

"Well, is he?" Becky needled.

"I'll never tell!" teased Elsie with a sideways smirk.

"You don't _need_ to!" Becky shot back. "That smug grin says it all!"

And all three women giggled like young girls.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I'm back, Pop," called Peter as he walked in the door of his apartment to find Charles sitting on his couch watching the news.

Charles pressed the button on the remote control to turn off the television. "So you saw her home safely, then?"

"I did," Peter said as he sat down on the other end of the sofa.

They were silent for a few moments as Charles studied Peter, who was lost in thought (happy thought, apparently, as evidenced by the contented smile on his lips).

"You really love her, don't you, lad?" Charles asked.

"I do, Pop. She makes me happy. I've never met anyone quite like her," Peter said quietly but sincerely.

"I'm happy for you. She _is_ quite remarkable. And I know she feels the same way about you. She's an intelligent girl – certainly smart enough to recognize the value of all your good qualities," Charles told Peter with no small amount of pride.

"Oh, stop it, Pop," said Peter with an indulgent smile. "You've been spending too much time with Mum; you're beginning to sound like her. I could rob a bank and you two would call me 'clever' and applaud my 'ingenuity'!"

"You'd better _not_ rob a bank!" Charles laughed. "We're just proud of you, son. That's all."

"I know you are, Pop."

"You know, when you walked across that stage today, your aunt and your grandmother were all beaming, and your mum was a blubbering mess. And I don't mind admitting there was lump in _my_ throat, too."

"Well, aren't you all a sentimental lot!" Peter said, trying to deflect the praise. "Anyway, I think I'll go change for bed and brush my teeth."

He stood and started to leave, but Charles also rose and stopped him. "I mean it, Peter. If I ever had a son … " Charles's voice cracked, and he trailed off.

"But you _do_ , Pop. You _do_ ," insisted Peter, laying a hand on Charles's shoulder. "I'm sure my dad is looking down on me today, just as proud as you and Mum and Gran and Auntie Becky. But he can't be here. He hasn't been able to look after me – directly – for twenty-five years. But I can't help thinking that maybe he had something to do with sending me someone who _has_ been here to look after me. And what my _dad_ hasn't been able to do for me, my _pop_ has more than made up for."

Charles couldn't even speak, so he just launched himself forward and wrapped Peter in a tight hug. When they pulled back, Peter sniffled and said, "Right, then. I'm off to use the bathroom." And as he walked towards the hallway, he called over his shoulder, "And incidentally, I'm sure Dad's glad you're taking such good care of Mum, too … and so am I."

 **A/N Craigie on Main* and Le Méridien** are both real places. Please see my tumblr post for pictures.**

 **Please leave a review if you'd be so kind. It would mean a lot to me. Thanks in advance.**

 **Next up … hen party/stag night! And then the wedding. Stick around for all the fun!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N I had hoped to have this done and posted yesterday, but alas, the best-laid plans often go astray. Good intentions don't always lead to successful execution. But here it is.**

 **I think a few of you might have missed my last chapter (posted Thursday) about Peter's graduation. If you haven't read that, you might want to go back and do that.**

 **Thank you all so much for continuing to stick with me.**

 _Friday, June 10, 2016_

Charles and Peter (who was temporarily staying at Charles's place to make room for Margaret and Becky at Elsie's flat) presented themselves at Elsie's front door in the morning.

"Good morning!" greeted Charles cheerily, kissing Elsie's cheek when she answered. "I've come to take my beloved out to breakfast."

"And I've brought cinnamon rolls for the other two lovely ladies currently in residence," announced Peter as he held out a bakery box. "Gran and Auntie Becky and I are staying here to accomplish a top-secret mission."

"So I've been told. It seems I've been banished from my own home!" Elsie complained in jest.

Charles pretended to be offended. "Is having breakfast with your intended really so dreadful?"

"Not at all!" she said, placating him with a kiss. "It's the only reason I've agreed to leave." Then she turned to Peter, "Go on, then, lad. Your gran and auntie are expecting you. They're in the kitchen, making tea and coffee."

"Right, Mum." And Peter kissed Elsie's cheek as he went inside and she came out. "See you later."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Charles and Elsie sat at Toast*, enjoying their breakfast. After swallowing a bite of his pesto-and-prosciutto scramble, Charles asked, "So is everything in order for tomorrow?"

"I think so," Elsie replied, trying to speak around a cheekful of her smoked salmon omelette. "Beryl's at school right now meeting with Jos Tufton, the catering manager. I have a bad feeling about that man. I don't completely trust him, but I'm not too worried. Beryl can take care of herself, and Bill's gone along with her, too, to set some things up." She continued to run down the list. "Jimmy and his boys will set up their equipment this afternoon, and William will direct the other musicians tomorrow. Cora and Isobel and the girls are meeting at school later today to oversee the decorating. Mr. Molesley will do as much as he can today and the rest tomorrow so that all of the flowers will be fresh. And I called the photographer to confirm."

Charles reviewed his own tasks and schedule. "And I have the rings. Peter and I will pick up our suits later this afternoon. We have appointments at the barbershop tomorrow morning. And I'm all packed for the trip."

"Me, too," said Elsie. "Beryl and I are going to the house this afternoon, just to make sure everything's in order. I know we'll be there for only one night, but Beryl wants to be sure we'll have enough food – at least something to drink and something for breakfast. And I want to leave my suitcase there. My dress is ready to go, and Mum, Becky, Beryl, and I have reservations at the salon first thing tomorrow."

"I think that's everything, then. It sounds like things are under control."

"Are you looking forward to your stag do tonight?" she asked him.

"Not at all," he told her. "Those things are for men who want to enjoy their 'last night of freedom' … men who are less than enthusiastic about getting married. But I don't particularly _like_ being 'free.' I _want_ to be bound to you forever."

"That's sweet of you to say, darling. So then just think of it as a get-together with friends."

"Hmph!" he grumbled.

"Remember: Peter's in charge. He'll be sure you have a nice time."

"That's the only reason I agreed to it. Are you looking forward to your hen night?"

She smiled at the thought. "I am, actually. I think it will be a lot of fun."

"Well, then. We'd better get on with it and finish our breakfast. We've got a busy day ahead."

After they finished up, Charles walked Elsie back home. They stood at her door for a moment before she went in.

As they embraced, Elsie had a request. "Will you come by later – after the parties – just to kiss me good night?"

"Certainly not! We mustn't see each other tonight," he insisted.

"Why not? I've never known you to be superstitious!"

"It's not superstition. It's _tradition_ ," he corrected. "There's a difference. I don't believe for a second that bad luck would result if we were to see one another. I just think it's a nice custom, and as you know, I'm not one to flout convention."

"Our whole romance has been far from _traditional_."

"Be that as it may, this is one tradition we _can_ observe, and so we _should_."

She half-sighed, half-huffed. "Very well. But if I'm not to see you again until tomorrow afternoon, then you'd better give me a kiss that will sustain me until then."

And he did – right there, out in the open, in the middle of campus, in broad daylight, caring not a whit whether someone saw him kissing his bride-to-be on the day before their wedding.

"I'll call you tonight," he promised before he made his way back to his own flat.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The rest of the morning and afternoon were busy and passed quickly, but evening found Elsie at Beryl's flat, surrounded by her mother, her sister, and her friends, all of whom were gathered in anticipation of her upcoming nuptials. The women had enjoyed several bottles of champagne and what must have been many hundreds of sweets that Beryl had baked. They'd engaged in giddy girl talk and played silly party games. Towards the end of the night, the ladies presented Elsie with some gifts. She hadn't had a bridal shower, since such things were more suited for a young bride setting up house for the first time. But still, her friends saw fit to mark the occasion with a few well-chosen tokens. Beryl gave her a cookbook and demanded to be invited over to Elsie's new house so that they could try out the recipes together in Elsie's gorgeous new kitchen. Cora and the girls had decided on spa gift cards and suggested to Elsie that she use them sometime after the honeymoon and before the new school year, in order to help her relax and rejuvenate. Anna, Phyllis, Sarah, Daisy, Gwen, and Ivy gave Elsie some accessories for her honeymoon trip: a hat, a scarf, sunglasses, and a large, versatile travel bag. Edna, Ethel and Jane had chosen a set of travel books. And Isobel, Rosamund, Violet, and Martha Levinson presented to Elsie a luxurious monogrammed bathrobe, insisting that she needed something with her new set of initials. Claire gave her two books to read in the airport and on the plane. Becky and Margaret had bought Elsie a beautiful nightgown, one that was attractive and feminine without being decadent. And Gladys also gave her some nightwear; this particular item was attractive and feminine, certainly, but it was definitely decadent, too: it happened to be the very piece Elsie and Beryl had seen Gladys inspecting that day in "promiscuous young things" section of the lingerie shop! All the other ladies smiled, laughed, and joked; and Beryl and Elsie shared a knowing smirk. Gladys shared her thoughts on the subject: "I say, 'If you've got it, flaunt it!'"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Meanwhile, the men were assembled at Bill and William Mason's flat. Peter and Bill had conspired to plan a very enjoyable evening. There was a poker table set up and a game in progess, just for fun, during which players came and went. Peter had organized a tremendous pizza buffet. Some of the younger men had brought six-packs of their favorite beers. The older men had brought bottles of whisky, gin, rum, brandy, and vodka. And Robert had brought a box of Cuban cigars** that he'd wangled through one of his more influential connections.

The men sat around conversing, drinking, playing poker, and devouring pizza at an alarming rate. Thomas and Jimmy tried to get a game of forfeits going, but that idea was quickly quashed by the more sensible members of the group. At a certain point, Robert, John, Matthew, Bertie, Richard, Tim, Joseph, and Charlie Grigg went out onto Bill's patio to smoke cigars. Joseph came back inside less than two minutes later, looking positively green, but the others stayed outside, puffing away contentedly despite the evening's warm temperature.

When the party was beginning to wind down, Peter offered Charles a flat, rectangular package. "Something to give you pleasant dreams tonight," Peter explained.

"Aha! I wondered when we'd get to that! You can't have a do like this without the girly magazines!" piped up Charlie Grigg.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Grigg, but it's nothing like that," Peter clarified.

"Oh. Right. Of course. I was just joshing," Charlie said when Charles glared at him.

While the others looked on, Charles opened the package to reveal a custom-made booklet filled with pictures of Elsie. As he leafed through the pages, he came across baby pictures and school pictures of Elsie, some shots of her from family vacations with her parents and Becky, a photo of her with Alice at their graduation from Roedean, a picture of Elsie holding baby Peter, various snapshots from holidays and birthdays, a formal portrait of Elsie from Downton's most recent yearbook, and finally, two photos of her and Charles: one taken on Christmas and the other taken at their New Year's Eve engagement party. Each photo was labeled and dated.

Charles was visibly touched by the thoughtful gift, and Peter explained, "Gran and Auntie Becky helped; this is what we were working on earlier."

"Thank you, lad. This certainly _will_ give me pleasant dreams." He shook Peter's hand. Then he turned to Charlie Grigg and said confidently, "You were right! There's something to be said for girly magazines. And isn't _this_ the most beautiful girl you've ever seen?"

"Right you are, mate. That she is!" Charlie concurred with a wide smile.

"And aren't _you_ jealous?!" Charles couldn't help adding. "Because as of tomorrow, _I_ 'm going to have not just some pictures – but the real thing!"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Later, after the parties had ended and everyone had gone home exhausted, Elsie was tucking herself into bed; her phone chimed, alerting her that someone was requesting a video call. She was surprised to see the identity of the caller but accepted the call immediately.

"Charles!" she cried happily, looking at the screen on her phone. "I didn't expect _this_!"

"Why not? I couldn't let you go to sleep without wishing you a good night," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Well, you said you'd _call_ , but we're not supposed to _see_ each other tonight!" she reminded him.

"We're _not_ ' _seeing_ ' each other," he pointed out. "I'm looking at a digital image – a _stunning_ image, I might add – relayed through the air and displayed, through a trick of light, on the screen of a mobile telecommunications device. And I'm listening to an electronic approximation of a beguiling Scottish voice, transmitted by waves of energy and re-created by moving electrons and a vibrating speaker. You see, we can't ' _see_ each other' if you and I are not even in the same building."

"That is a very fine distinction, my dear, and rather dubious reasoning, as well."

"It's convincing enough to satisfy me that tradition is being upheld."

"As you say, love," she allowed. She didn't quite follow his logic, but she wasn't about to argue. "How was the shindig?"

"Oh, very nice. Peter and Bill made sure a good time was had by all. And how about your hen party? Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes, of course. You know Beryl's a fabulous hostess … though I'm a little concerned that with all the sweets I ate, I might not fit into my dress tomorrow!"

"I'm sure you will – and you'll look wonderful," he assured her.

"Well, I do hope so."

"I won't keep you. You must be as tired as I am, and we have a big day tomorrow."

"Yes, we do. Just think: in less than twenty-four hours, I'll be Mrs. Carson," she remarked happily.

"I wish you were Mrs. Carson _right now_."

"One more day, Charles."

"That is one day too many!" he complained sincerely but comically.

"Good night, my love. I love you more than I can say. I'll see you in church tomorrow."

"I'll be there waiting. And I love you, too – madly. Sweet dreams."

After Charles hung up and placed his phone back on his bedside table, he picked up his gift from Peter, spent a few minutes paging through the pictures of his lovely Elsie, and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

 **A/N *Toast restaurant: real place. See tumblr for picture.**

 ****For anyone who is not aware, Cuban cigars have been illegal in the US for a long time; due to strained relations between the two countries, there's been a trade embargo on all goods from Cuba. However, restrictions have been loosened recently, and now people traveling to Cuba with proper authorization are permitted to bring back with them a small amount of alcohol and tobacco for their own personal consumption (not for resale). Cuban cigars are still not sold by retailers in America, but they are considered some of the best in the world. (So they say. Though I wouldn't know, would I?)**

 **The wedding chapter will follow (along with a special bonus chapter about a side event) just as soon as I can get it written. In the meantime, please leave a review if you're able and willing. It really would mean a lot to me.**

 **Also: I haven't proofread this very carefully, but I want to get it posted. I'll go back and check again and fix any mistakes that I find; but in the meantime, if you spot any errors before I get to checking, please do let me know. Thanks!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N Thank you to everyone who is still with me; your support is greatly appreciated.**

 **Here's the wedding day chapter.**

 _Saturday, June 11, 2016_

Charles woke early, and his gaze fell on the booklet Peter had given him, the one with the pictures of Elsie. He took it from his nightstand where he'd placed it last night before falling asleep and leafed through it again for a minute or two, smiling and marveling once again at the beauty of the woman who would shortly be his wife. Then he sent off a quick text message to Elsie.

He showered, got dressed quickly, and wrote a note to Peter: _Gone to drop off my suitcase at the house and to check on a few things there; be back soon._ He didn't think Peter would wake before he returned from his mission, but he left the note just in case.

An hour later, having accomplished his task, he returned home to find Peter in the kitchen, making coffee.

"Morning, Pop!" Peter greeted cheerily. "Got your note. Everything all right at the house?"

"Oh, yes. I just wanted to leave my suitcase there and to be sure everything's in order," Charles told him. "And I stopped to get these." He held out a box containing two huge, freshly baked muffins.

"Mmm. Those smell good," commented Peter.

Charles set down the box and went to get some plates from the cupboard, rattling the stack a bit as he removed two.

"Big day today. You're not eager, are you?" Peter asked with a grin, noticing Charles's impatience and excitement, evident already, hours before the big event.

"A bit, perhaps," Charles confessed.

"Right," Peter said. "Let's get on with it. Breakfast first – and then the barbershop."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Elsie woke to find a message on her phone from Charles: _Love you. Can't wait!_ She smiled fondly and typed her response: _Love you, too. I'm rather keen myself._

She showered and got dressed, allowing her mother and sister to sleep a bit longer. Before long, the other women rose and got ready, too, and Beryl arrived with bagels. After a quick breakfast, the ladies went out to meet Tom Branson in the school's car.

"Good morning, ladies!" he said brightly, opening the car's doors for his passengers. "I'm happy to take you to the salon, but I can't imagine that you'll walk out of there looking any more beautiful than you already do."

"Charmer!" said Margaret as Tom took her hand to help her into the vehicle. "I'll bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only the pretty ones, Mrs. Hughes," he replied. "Only the pretty ones."

Tom drove the four women to the salon, where they spent the next couple of hours having their nails, eyebrows, hair, and make-up done. Tom was only half right. While the treatment might have enhanced their natural beauty only slightly, the pampering did wonders for their spirits, and they _felt_ much more beautiful afterwards. And perhaps just as importantly, they enjoyed just relaxing, laughing, and being together.

Tom drove them back to Elsie's flat, and they gathered their things before heading across campus to Elsie's office, which would serve as a sort of bride's room where they would get dressed for the ceremony.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Charles and Peter returned from the barbershop, freshly shorn and close-shaven. Peter used the guest bathroom to shower while Charles took a shower in the master bathroom. They'd each showered once today already but wanted to wash away any remaining hair clippings. Peter donned his trousers, braces, dress shirt, socks, and shoes before knocking on Charles's bedroom door and finding Charles in a similar state of half-readiness.

"Need a hand with that?" Peter asked, noticing Charles fiddling with a cuff link.

"Would you mind?" said Charles, holding out his wrist. "Normally, I can do up these things with my eyes closed, but today I can't get my fingers to cooperate."

"Nervous energy," observed Peter as he took care of the link.

"Not 'nervous,' exactly. More like 'eager' or 'impatient,'" Charles amended.

The two men made small talk as they stood before the large mirror above the dresser in Charles's room and fastened collars, studs, links, and ties. Peter's presence soothed Charles, and Charles was glad of it.

"Now what?" Charles asked after donning his waistcoat, checking the time, and realizing it was too early for the two of them to put on their morning coats and head over to school. "We've still got an hour before we need to even _think_ about leaving."

"I think you should have something else to eat. You only nibbled at your muffin," Peter pointed out.

"I don't want to risk staining my clothes."

"Then I think your choice is between bread and crackers. And you can drink some water – from a bottle with a flip-spout."

So they went to the kitchen, ate some plain saltine crackers, and washed them down with water. And their clothing remained spotless.

When only ten minutes had passed, Charles complained, "It's still too early to go anywhere. But if I sit around idle, I'll go mad!"

"I know just the thing." Peter went into the sitting room, and Charles followed him. Peter opened the door to the cabinet where he knew Charles kept the games and pulled out Battleship®. "Come on. This should distract you and help pass some time."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Once the women were sequestered in Elsie's office, they had only to slip out of the clothes they were wearing and to slip into their slips, hosiery, dresses, and jewelry. (So as not to disarrange their hairdos or smudge their make-up, they'd wisely worn button-down blouses that could be removed without being lifted over their heads.) It didn't take long for them to be dressed and ready, and soon Elsie's office entertained a steady stream of women who came to check on the bride: Cora, Isobel, Anna, Phyllis, and one or two others.

When Beryl excused herself to go and check on meal preparations, Margaret tagged along, and Elsie and Becky were left alone.

"Well!" Becky exclaimed. "I never imagined I'd be your maid of honor _twice_!"

Elsie laughed. "I never thought I'd be _married_ twice!"

"I've never got there _once_ yet!" joked Becky.

"The men don't know what they're missing. Not that a single one of them is worthy of you ... "

"That's what I keep telling them!" They both chuckled heartily before Becky continued seriously. "I'm happy for you, big sister. Truly." And they shared a hug, trying hold in the tears that might smear their eye make-up. And just then, the photographer knocked on the door, ready to snap some photos.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Peter and Charles were now stationed in the school's library. This particular location had been chosen for two reasons: firstly, it was on the other side of the building from Elsie's office; and secondly, the dark wood and leather-bound volumes would provide a nice, masculine backdrop for the pre-ceremony pictures of the men. The photographer had just left, and Peter and Charles now had a calm, quiet moment alone.

"There's something I'd like to give you," Charles told Peter. "I'd always hoped to give it to my son. And even if I weren't going to marry your mother, it would still be yours." He withdrew a silver pocket watch from his breast pocket. "It belonged to my great-grandfather. It's been well-maintained; I've had it cleaned, polished, and repaired as necessary. It's in excellent condition, and it still works perfectly. It's not exactly a practical gift, and it's not particularly valuable, but it has some sentimental value, some history to it. I'd like for you to have it."

Charles handed the timeworn timepiece to Peter, and Peter was visibly moved. "Pop, I don't know what to say. I'll treasure it always. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Your mum gave me a new one for Christmas," said Charles, patting his waistcoat pocket, "so now we've each got one."

Peter proudly slipped his new acquisition into his pocket, and Charles helped him affix the chain to his waistcoat.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Elsie, Becky, Margaret, and Beryl waited in Elsie's office. They were completely ready, and it was almost time for the ceremony to start.

Peter knocked on the door and let himself in. After a quick appraisal of the sight before him, he flashed the ladies a winning smile. "Absolutely gorgeous! I've never seen so much beauty all in one place."

"Oh, go on!" said Margaret, swatting her grandson's shoulder playfully.

"I hate to have to break up all the loveliness going on here, but I need to escort three of you ladies to the chapel," Peter announced. He turned to Elsie and told her, "Mum, as soon as I take Gran and Auntie Beryl to their seats and get Auntie Becky and Pop settled at the front of the church, I'll be back to get you." And he gave Elsie a quick peck before he left with the other women.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

All alone now, Charles paced back and forth along the shelves in the library. As he'd explained to Peter earlier, he wasn't nervous. He was just keen to have done with the whole formality of the ceremony and reception and to have Elsie as his wife. As a matter of fact, he would have been perfectly happy to skip over the next several hours to get to the part where he would get to take Elsie home and be alone with her. And not just … well, not just for _that_ reason. He was just eager to be married, with _everything_ that that involved. Now that the moment was so close, it seemed to be taking forever. The past six hours had seemed to drag on longer than the previous six _months_ had.

Peter returned to find Charles tugging on his waistcoat and pulling on his shirt cuffs.

"Ready, Pop? It's time to get you to church," said Peter.

"Finally!" Charles cried with considerable relief. Then a burst of panic seized him. "The rings! Have we got the rings?"

"Right here, Pop." Peter patted his pocket. "Not to worry."

Charles relaxed and exhaled deeply.

Peter paused for a moment. "Before we go, Pop, I just want you to know how happy I am that you're marrying Mum. You make her very happy."

"Thank you, son. That means a lot to me," Charles told him earnestly. "Your mum makes _me_ happy, too, and I can't tell you how happy I am that _you_ come along in the deal, too."

"Well! Now that we've established how happy we all are, let's go over to church and become a whole lot happier!" Peter clapped Charles on the shoulder, and off they went.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Elsie tried to calm herself, but she was too excited. As she looked out the window of her office at the campus outside, she thought about how lucky she was to be marrying Charles. As recently as six months ago, she wouldn't have dreamed that he might return her feelings. But he did, and now they were going to be married! That thought made her almost giddy. In another hour or so, Charles would be her husband, and she would be his wife. And it was a good thing, too, because she didn't think she could wait much longer. Just then, Peter returned and interrupted her musings.

"Is the bride ready to get married?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. _Very_ ready," she answered.

"Good. Because I'm afraid if we keep your groom waiting any longer, he might keel over. By the way … Pop wanted me to give you something."

"What is it?"

"This." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "And he said to tell you he loves you and you look beautiful."

"He hasn't even seen me today!"

"Doesn't matter."

"Oh, you two really _are_ daft!"

She smiled and took his offered arm, and mother and son headed to the chapel.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Charles stood at the front of the chapel, hands clasped behind his back, trying to remain still. He clenched and unclenched his hands while bouncing ever so slightly on the balls of his feet. One distinct disadvantage to having the best man also give the bride away made itself painfully obvious in this moment: when Charles most needed Peter to calm him, Peter was otherwise engaged. Sensing Charles's disquiet, Becky walked over from her position and laid a hand on his arm. She said nothing, only smiled at him knowingly, and that was enough to calm him. He smiled back at her gratefully. Finally, after what seemed like endless hours, the opening strains of "Air on the G String" filled the church.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Elsie and Peter stood just outside the chapel doors, awaiting their cue. Alfred and Andy opened the doors, and the sounds of the organ and violin drifted out. The bride and her escort made their entrance and began their graceful procession up the aisle. Elsie kept her eyes straight ahead, fixed on Charles, who was waiting for her at the front of the aisle.

Charles, for his part, couldn't take his eyes off his bride. His eyes had misted over the moment he saw her, but the cloudiness only served to reinforce the dreamlike quality of the radiant vision before him.

When Peter and Elsie reached the front of the church, the music stopped, Elsie handed her bouquet to Becky, and Reverend Travis greeted the assembly. After some initial remarks and opening prayers, he addressed the congregation: "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the face of this company to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony … " He continued speaking, expounding on the nature, purpose, and sanctity of marriage and exhorting all those present to make known any impediment of which they might be aware. When no one voiced any objection, the minister turned to Charles.

"Charles Ernest, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together according to God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," Charles answered solemnly.

Then Mr. Travis turned to Elsie and asked, "Elsie May, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together according to God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," replied Elsie.

After both parties had thus declared their intent, there were more prayers, followed by Old Testament and Gospel readings. Mr. Travis gave a heartfelt homily, and then it was time for the vows.

Looking at Peter, the reverend asked, "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"

Peter smiled and placed Elsie's hand into the minister's, and the minister in turn joined her hand with Charles's.

The vicar asked Charles to repeat after him, and Charles did. "I, Charles Ernest, take thee, Elsie May, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

Reverend Travis loosed their hands and rejoined them, and then Elsie repeated after Mr. Travis. "I, Elsie May, take thee, Charles Ernest, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."

Then Peter presented the rings, and Reverend Travis blessed them.

"Bless, O Lord, these rings, and grant that they who give them and shall wear them may remain faithful to each other, and abide in thy peace and favor, and live together in love until their lives' end. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Charles took Elsie's left hand, placed the smaller ring on her fourth finger, and once again repeated the words he was prompted to speak. "With this ring I thee wed; with my body I thee worship; and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Elsie took the larger ring, placed it on Charles the fourth finger of Charles's left hand, and repeated, "With this ring I thee wed; with my body I thee worship; and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Mr. Travis prayed over the couple, then joined the couple's hands together once more and said, "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." Then he turned to those gathered and proclaimed: "Forasmuch as Charles and Elsie have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of rings and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

After a blessing of the newly married couple, the ceremony continued with Holy Communion.

The rest of the service proceeded, and after the final blessing and dismissal, the trumpeter played "Trumpet Voluntary" while the newlyweds walked arm-in-arm out of the chapel.

Outside, they shared a joyful celebratory kiss and were promptly pelted with birdseed. Applause, cheers, and other expressions of joy rang out across campus, and hearty congratulations were offered. The couple were hustled back inside to sign the register and to take some posed pictures in the chapel, and then the photographer even managed some outside shots in front of the campus's colorful flora before the oppressive heat became too much for everyone. All the while, the bride and groom couldn't stop beaming at each other or even tear their eyes from one another.

There was a slight lull in activity before the reception, and Charles and Elsie took the opportunity to excuse themselves and to steal away to Charles's office for a moment alone. As soon as the door closed behind them, they were in each other's arms, kissing enthusiastically.

"Hello, _Mrs. Carson_ ," Charles breathed in Elsie's ear.

"Hello," she murmured. "' _Mrs. Carson_ ,' you say, hm? I like the sound of that."

"So do I," he agreed. "And I like the look and smell and taste and feel of her, too." He nipped desperately at her neck, ears, and face, wherever his lips could reach in his frenzied state. "Have I told you how extraordinarily beautiful you look today?"

"If I recall correctly, you sent such a message through Peter – before you'd even seen me! But I don't believe I've had the chance to tell you how exceptionally handsome _you_ look."

By now, their hands were roaming dangerously close to previously forbidden places. Though those regions were no longer off-limits, it would not have been prudent to explore such areas in the current setting at the present time. So after one last searing kiss, the couple recomposed themselves, righted their clothes and hair, and proceeded to the faculty dining hall in preparation for the reception.

The Carsons stood at the entrance to the dining hall, greeting the arriving guests, receiving congratulations, and offering thanks. Friends and family circulated and sipped cocktails, and at the appointed time, all those present took their seats.

When everyone had a glass of champagne, Peter called for attention and began his best man's toast. "Never in a million years could I have imagined that I would be giving my mother away at her wedding. Never in a _billion_ years could I have guessed that I would be the best man at my pop's wedding. And never, _ever_ could I have predicted that I'd be doing _both_ of those things at the _same_ wedding!" Peter paused to allow a few chuckles to die down. "Mum and Pop have been friends for a good, long while. After my dad died, my mum was pretty sad. For a long time. Gran and Gramps and Auntie Becky helped her, and so did my dad's family. But Mum was still sad. So my Auntie Alice and 'Uncle Charles,' as I called him then, convinced her to take a new job and to move here to Chicago with me. They thought that a clean break and a fresh start might help, and they were right. With their encouragement, Mum started doing better and got on with her life. But then Auntie Alice got sick, and she died, too. And 'Uncle Charles' was devastated. For a good, long while. Mum took good care of him; he had a rough go of it, too, but she managed to break through and bring some joy back into his life. And somehow, through it all – through their shared grief and comfort and support – Mum and Pop fell in love. And now, here we are, celebrating their wedding. Two people who have known both the most profound joy _and_ the deepest sorrow … have found happiness once again … with each other. Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses to Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carson. May they live happily ever after!"

"Hear, hear!" everyone cheered heartily. Then it was the groom's turn to toast his bride.

"You all know the story of how Elsie and I have come to be here today," Charles began. "We've both been married before, and one might be inclined to think that that fact makes our relationship and our new marriage somehow less special. But we don't see it quite that way. Because we've been happily married, we both know what it's like to love and to be loved. And because we've both lost beloved spouses, we know how precious that love is. We know how important it is to treasure and savor each moment. And I'm going to begin our marriage by cherishing this very instant in which I tell my beautiful wife how much I love her, how happy she makes me, and how fortunate and proud and grateful I am to be her husband. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in honoring my wonderful bride. I offer this toast … to my Elsie." He lifted his glass and leaned down to steal a kiss before taking a sip.

"To Elsie," the crowd echoed.

Elsie stood and joined Charles, and they took another minute or two to thank the guests for coming and to acknowledge everyone who had helped to plan and execute the ceremony and the reception. Then they yielded to Mr. Travis, who said grace, and dinner began.

The meal was a feast fit for royalty. One sumptuous course followed another, and everyone raved about Beryl's abilities and the quality of the work done by Tufton's Catering. While the guests dined, a string quartet played softly in the background.

After dessert (the most exquisite wedding cake anyone had ever seen), the dancing began. A twelve-piece orchestra struck up Glenn Miller's "Moonlight Serenade," and the newlyweds were called to dance their first dance. Charles led Elsie around the floor in a slow foxtrot while their guests looked on. As the last notes died out, he gently dipped her backwards and kissed her sweetly, and the crowd applauded. The two vocalists then invited the others to join the dancing. Elsie danced with Peter, and Charles danced with Margaret and then Becky. Peter and Claire made a handsome couple as they spun around in each other's arms. The Spratts danced marvelously, as usual, but another couple gave them a run for their money: Joseph and Phyllis, who had been taking ballroom dance classes together since they'd begun dating in April, showed a great deal of talent and promise. What Beryl and Bill lacked in style and finesse, they overcame with laughter, smiles, and mutual affection. There was a tense moment in which the caterer, Jos Tufton, took a break from his work and tried insistently to cut in and dance with Beryl (who had no interest whatsoever in dancing with the man), but Bill handled the situation firmly and discreetly. Anna and John looked cozy as they danced together, and so did Isobel and Richard. Robert led Cora smoothly around the room. Claire's parents (who had been invited to the wedding along with Claire) looked rather happy as they glided among the other couples. William Molesley asked Violet Crawley to dance, and they made quite an elegant, distinguished-looking couple. And Charlie Grigg danced with almost every woman present.

Jimmy and his band played in the expansive commons outside, and the younger folks congregated there to mingle and to dance. It was a warm night, following the hottest day of the year so far, but the more junior guests didn't seem to mind. As a matter of courtesy, Charles and Elsie spent a few minutes socializing outside, but they were pleased when they had fulfilled their obligation and returned to the quieter, cooler surroundings of the dining hall.

Finally, it was time for the happy couple to leave, and everyone gathered to see them off. They said their goodbyes, hugging and kissing those closest to them, and when Elsie thanked Beryl for everything, she noticed on the fourth finger of Beryl's hand a gorgeous ring that most certainly had not been there before*. Elsie's eyes bugged out, and Beryl's face broke into a brilliant smile.

"When did this happen? And when were you going to say something?" Elsie demanded.

"This isn't my day, love; it's yours," said Beryl. "But I'll tell you all about it later. Now get on with you."

Having observed and overheard the exchange, Charles shook Bill's hand. "Congratulations, my friend," he offered.

"Thank you. Congratulations to _you_. Now take that lovely wife of yours home," Bill told him.

Last of all, Charles and Elsie hugged and kissed Peter, Margaret, and Becky, promising to see them at luncheon tomorrow afternoon. (Beryl had insisted on giving the couple a little send-off before they left for the honeymoon.) Then the couple climbed into the waiting car, and Tom Branson drove them to their new home.

The five-minute, three-block ride seemed to last forever and took every ounce of restraint that Charles and Elsie could muster. They sat pressed closely together, with Charles's arm around Elsie and her head on his shoulder, and they even shared a few chaste pecks, but they refrained from further kisses and caresses during the ride. Finally, they arrived at their destination. Tom let them out and bade them good night, and they thanked him.

Finally, they stood alone on the porch while Elsie dug the house key out of her purse. She wondered why the porch light was on, since she knew she and Beryl hadn't left it on when they visited yesterday, but Charles explained that he'd turned it on this morning when he came by to leave his suitcase. Elsie unlocked the door, and Charles opened it. Before she could protest, he scooped her in his arms, carried her across the threshold, deposited her inside, and closed and locked the door. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her as he'd wanted to all day. It was a long, full, deep kiss – the type that a bridegroom gives his bride on their wedding night when they are finally alone.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Carson," he whispered against her lips.

"Welcome home, Mr. Carson," she responded breathlessly.

"I don't want to leave you for an instant, but I'm afraid I must," he apologized. "Will you wait here for just a moment? There's something I need to do. I'll be right back."

She acquiesced, and he led her to sit in a chair in their front room. They hadn't turned on any lights, but the light filtering in from the street lamps outside was more than sufficient. Elsie heard Charles rustling about in the kitchen, and then she heard him go upstairs. Not long after, he returned to retrieve her and led her through the semi-darkness up to their bedroom. She entered the room to find flowers and lit candles everywhere. Soft music played, and a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes sat on the night table next to the bed.

"Charles! This is lovely!" she cried joyously. "When and how did you manage all this?"

"I'm glad you like it. I came by early this morning to set it up. I wanted everything to be perfect for you," he stated earnestly.

" _You_ 're perfect for me," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.

When she released him from her hold, Charles walked over to the nightstand, took the bottle of Veuve Clicquot, wrapped it in a small towel, and expertly popped the cork without spilling a drop. Then he poured some into the glasses, handed one to Elsie, and took the other for himself.

"To new beginnings," he said, repeating the same toast he'd used just after she accepted his proposal.

"To new beginnings," she echoed as she gently clinked her flute against his.

They both sipped, and when Elsie sat down on the bed, Charles joined her. They kept silent for a time while they drained the remains of the champagne from their glasses.

"More?" asked Charles, reaching over to grab the bottle.

"No, thank you. Not just yet," Elsie replied.

She set her empty glass down on the bedside table, and he followed her lead. Now that she had both hands free, she leaned down and took her shoes off. He also bent over and removed his shoes. Then he took both of her hands in his, stood, and tugged her to her feet. Holding her by the waist, he drew her close. She worked her hands under his coat, slipped it off his shoulders, and cast it onto the bed. Next she unbuttoned, removed, and tossed aside his waistcoat. While his hands roved her body, she unfastened his tie and collar (stopping to kiss the underside of his jaw) and then his studs and cuff links, setting them all on the night table when she was finished. She eased his braces off his shoulders, untucked his now-open shirt from his trousers, and pulled the shirt from his body. Finally, she undid his fly, and he stepped out of his trousers and laid them on the bed.

As he stood before her in his socks, undershirt, and boxer shorts, she turned around to allow him to unbutton the back of her dress. As he undid the buttons, he kissed his way down her neck and back. Once the buttons were all open, he held the dress, and she stepped out of it. She took it from him and spread it across the bed. Now she wore only her slip, hose, and undergarments.

"Elsie," he breathed, "I … I hate to interrupt things now … God knows I _really_ hate to pause at this very moment. But I really should freshen up a bit. It's been a long, hot day, and I'm sticky and sweaty. I want to smell good and feel good for you. I'd like to be fresh and clean for my wife."

"Charles, you really don't have to … But the truth is … I wouldn't mind tidying _myself_ up a bit, too."

"Why don't you go first, then?" he offered indicating the bathroom.

"No, that's all right," she said. "You'll be faster than I will. You go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, you daft man," she laughed. "Now, go on! And be quick about it!"

He kissed her, grabbed the items he would need, and disappeared into the bathroom. Elsie barely had time to take off her jewelry and hang up her dress by the time Charles reappeared, having showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, and changed into fresh boxers and a T-shirt, all in record time.

"That was fast!" she remarked.

"I didn't want to keep my lovely bride waiting." He walked up to her, pressed his body to hers, and drew her into his arms.

"Mmm … You do smell good," she said, nuzzling his neck and running her fingers through his still-damp hair. "And you feel good, too," she commented, grazing her fingers over his smooth face. "And you taste good," she added between kisses. Before things became too frenzied, she pulled away, trying to catch her breath. "Give me just a moment, love. Let me go wash up, and I'll be right back."

Elsie collected a few items and went off to the bathroom. While she was gone, Charles blew out some of the candles, and the room darkened a bit. He turned off the music, hung up his clothes, and straightened up the room. Then he turned down the bed, sat down on it, and waited for Elsie. And when she returned, she took his breath away. She wore a pale pink silk chemise with a matching short, light robe, and she'd let her hair down. As she came nearer, he detected an absolutely heavenly fragrance. He stood to greet her as she approached him.

"Hello, Mrs. Carson," he whispered, full of wonder. "You're a goddess."

She responded with a kiss, and he returned it fervently. After a few moments, they sat down on the bed again.

"Elsie, I don't mind telling you I'm little nervous," revealed Charles. "I haven't done this in a very long time."

"And I don't mind admitting I'm a bit worried, too," she confessed, resting her hand on top of his on the bed between them. "It's been even longer for me."

"You do know there was never anyone besides Alice, right?" he queried tentatively.

"Well, I couldn't have known that for a fact until just now, but I'd guessed as much. And in case you're wondering … I've never been with anyone but Joe," Elsie informed him.

"I'd suspected that to be the case, but thank for you telling me." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Do you think it will feel strange … or … I don't know … awkward, somehow?"

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly. "Maybe a little, at first. We might have some ghosts to chase away. But I _will_ tell you _this_ , Charles Carson: when you hold me in your arms … when you kiss me … I can't think of anyone or anything but you and how much I love you."

And she slid her hands up his chest, hooked them over his shoulders, and kissed him.

"Elsie," he said, pulling back enough to speak, "you should know that you have a similar effect on me. When I'm here like this with you, I don't have a care in the world – no sorrow, no regret, no worry. Now that you're mine, my life is absolutely perfect."

"Charles," she said, lifting his shirt up and over his head and kissing his chest, "are you going to stop talking and make love to me?"

"Ohhhhh, yes," he assured her while pushing the robe from her shoulders and lowering the straps of her chemise. His next words were interspersed with nips and pecks to her neck, shoulders, and chest. "Make no mistake about it, Elsie Carson. I intend to make love to you … every night … and every day … every single chance I get … for the rest of our lives … starting right now." And without further delay, he began his fulfillment of that promise.

 **A/N *If you'd like to know how Beryl's new engagement ring ended up on her finger, you'll want to read the supplemental Berylliam chapter that I'll be posting soon. That's the bonus chapter that I mentioned previously.**

 **I did a lot of research on the wedding ceremony and ultimately decided on the traditional service (almost identical to the one that the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge used for their wedding) within the context of Holy Communion. A couple has the option to celebrate marriage within the context of Holy Communion or outside it; but to include the communion rite is recommended and more conventional, and I think our Chelsie (Charles especially) would lean that way. I included a good deal of the wording of the declarations of intent, the vows, the giving and receiving of rings, and some significant prayers because I think the words are important. I found slight variations in the wording among the different places I looked, but this should be pretty close to correct, I think. I've done my best to get the details right, but if anyone notices something that's off, please do let me know so that I can fix it.**

 **Thanks for reading. Hope you've enjoyed it. Please leave a review to let me know what you think. Thanks in advance.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N Thank you for your support. I'd like to acknowledge specifically my guest reviewers to whom I can't reply with a personal PM. Member reviewers have received and will receive individual responses.**

 **Here's "the morning after" and "leaving for the honeymoon." I'll apologize in advance: not much exciting happens, plot-wise. Essentially, I just indulged myself imagining how happy they are now that they're married; this is what resulted. It's probably a fairly strong T, but it's suggestive and not explicit. (Does anybody even need that warning? I don't know, but I'll throw it out there just in case.)**

 _Sunday, June 12, 2016_

As the first rays of the sun peeked through the window, Elsie lay in Charles's arms, completely sated, far too happy to sleep, and much too comfortable to move. As she rested her head on his chest, she listened to his heartbeat with one ear and his snoring with the other. Absently, she played with the hair on his chest, soothingly stroking a soft, silver patch right in the center. She let out a peaceful sigh, and he stirred.

"You're awake?" he asked, opening one eye. "Aren't you tired? It's still early. Why don't you go back to sleep for a while?"

"I don't want to sleep," she told him. "I think it was Dr. Seuss who said something about not being able to fall asleep when you're in love because reality is finally better than your dreams. I think I can appreciate that sentiment right now. My waking life is a dream come true. In fact, it's even _better_ than anything I could possibly have imagined."

"Just you wait, wife of mine. This is only the beginning. From this day forward, it's going to get even better," he vowed as he kissed the top of her head.

She lifted her head and looked up at him. "Will you always make me so happy?"

"I'll always _try_ ," he promised, lazily stroking her arm. "But we both know that I have a tendency to frustrate and infuriate you sometimes. I doubt marriage will cure me of that overnight."

"I'm sure I'll vex you often enough, too," she allowed.

"I shall have a hard time _ever_ being cross with you _now_ … knowing, as I do, _exactly_ what awaits me when we're on good terms." He waggled his eyebrows seductively.

"Marital harmony does have its rewards … " she said provocatively, gliding her fingers over his body in a manner most pleasing to them both. "I must endeavor always to stay in your good graces." Then her lips followed her fingers, dropping kisses in all the right places.

"Woman, you're too much for me!" he protested in jest. "It's been barely two hours since the last time! I'm an elderly gentleman, for goodness' sake!" His subsequent actions, however, disproved the veracity of his last statement; for his exuberant responses to her flirtatious overtures were hardly those of an "elderly gentleman," and soon he was honoring his oath from last night, the one about the frequency and zeal with which they would engage in connubial endeavors.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The Carsons sat at their kitchen table a short time later, eating their first breakfast together as a married couple.

"I must admit," said Elsie, "I thought Beryl was fussing rather too much when she and I came by on Friday and she insisted on stocking some basic items. I didn't think you and I would need much for just this morning. After all, we _are_ going to be gone for three weeks, and Beryl _is_ cooking us a bon voyage luncheon this afternoon. But at this very moment, my stomach and my taste buds are glad of her foresight."

"As are mine," Charles agreed.

Beryl had left them some absolutely delectable waffles that she'd prepared previously and had frozen so that they could simply be reheated in the toaster oven. She'd also made a berry glaze and had whipped some cream to put on top of the waffles. _And_ she'd provided a supply of sturdy disposable plates, cups, and utensils. She'd planned ahead so that the newlyweds wouldn't be bothered with cooking breakfast, washing dishes, or cleaning up a mess on the morning after their wedding night, just hours before leaving for their honeymoon. Truly, the woman had thought of everything.

"You snore, you know," teased Elsie over a sip of coffee.

"I'm sorry," said Charles. "Did I keep you awake?"

"No," she assured him, smiling. "Quite the opposite, in fact: I found it rather soothing."

"In the spirit of full disclosure … " he returned between bites of waffle, "you fidget. Quite a bit. You're a very restless sleeper."

"Did _I_ keep _you_ awake?" she worried.

"Not really. You settled calmly when I pulled you close and held you tightly," he reasoned happily.

"So, then, we've made it through our first night together. If I can endure your snoring and you can tolerate my fidgeting, then this marriage might work out after all." She smiled at that thought.

He lifted her hand and kissed it. "I'm counting on it."

They finished breakfast and discarded their soiled napkins, plates, utensils, and coffee cups. Elsie wiped down the counter and table, and Charles sealed up the garbage bag and took it to the refuse bin outside. Then they made their way upstairs to get ready for the day.

As they stood in their bedroom, Elsie pondered for a moment. "Hmmmmmmm … We have plenty of time; it's still fairly early. I think I'll have myself a nice soak in that great, big tub of ours."

"Ah. Good. In that case, I've got something for you," Charles informed her.

He disappeared into their closet and reappeared a moment later carrying a basket full of lotions, potions, and other goodies. He presented it to Elsie, and she sat down on the bed to look through its contents. She found some high-end shampoo and conditioner; a bath sponge, a soft cloth, and various bath gels, oils, and salts; some after-bath skin lotions and moisturizers; some powder and a soft, fluffy applicator puff; and a fine-looking hairbrush.

She smiled appreciatively. "This is very nice, Charles! Thank you."

"Well, I must admit … I did have selfish motives," he told her as he sat down next to her.

"Oh?" she asked with sideways glance and a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. I'm hoping perhaps – if I behave myself … if I am _very good_ – you might allow me to … _assist_ you in the use of some of these items," Charles suggested hopefully.

She smirked at him. "Oh, you thought that, did you?"

"I did, yes. I'd really like to wash your hair. And to brush it. And to run my fingers through it."

"Well … " Elsie pretended to consider, placing her hand on her chin and her index finger across her lips. "I think I might allow that – on one condition."

"Yes?"

"Well, you see, it seems we've been thinking along the same lines. I've had a similar idea." She got up, went to the dresser, removed something from one of the drawers, sat back down on the bed, and handed him a small gift basket. This one contained a traditional shaving kit: a straight-blade razor, a strop, and a hone; a shaving brush, shaving soap, and a small bowl for mixing; and some pre-shave oil and after-shave balm.

Charles was touched. "Thank you, love. It's wonderful. How very thoughtful of you."

"I know it's not practical for everyday use … " she qualified, "but I thought perhaps – on the weekends or holidays or mornings when we're not rushed … "

"Yes, I look forward to using it."

"Only I wondered if … if you might let _me_ shave you," she ventured. "I've been thinking about how nice it would be to be able to run my hands all over your handsome face."

"Have you?"

"I have."

"Erm, Elsie … ?" he said warily. "Do you know how to use a straight blade?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "I read an instructional article and watched a tutorial video."

"That doesn't exactly inspire me with confidence," he returned doubtfully.

"Oh, Charles. I have a very steady hand," she soothed. "Just trust me."

"So … if I'll allow you to shave my face and caress my cheeks with those soft, delicate, magical fingers of yours … "

"Then I'll permit you to wash my hair and massage my scalp with those big, strong, marvelous hands of yours."

"You've got yourself a deal, lady!" he pronounced gleefully.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

In short order, Elsie lay back in a tub full of steaming water, to which she'd added bath oils and salts. Charles knelt beside her, fussing with bottles. First, he poured bath gel on the sponge and washed her body. He was, perhaps, slower and more thorough than strictly necessary, lingering longer in areas where his touch elicited happy responses from his wife; and she, for her part, enjoyed her husband's loving ministrations for more than purely practical reasons. When his hands arrived at her shoulders, he squeezed and kneaded, causing her to sigh in pleasure; and after running the sponge over her back, he scratched lightly with his fingernails, a gesture that also earned a contented hum from his bride. Then, he squeezed out some shampoo into his palm, lathered it through her hair, starting at her scalp and working his way through her long tresses to the ends, and rinsed out the suds. Finally, he applied conditioner, worked it in, and rinsed well.

"Thank you, darling," she said when he was done. "That was lovely. I don't think I've ever been so pampered."

"You're quite welcome." He stood to get a towel for her, but she stopped him.

"I'm not ready to get out just yet," she told him. "I'm going to shave my legs first."

"All right. In that case, I'll just go ahead and get in the shower now," he decided.

A few minutes later, while Charles stood under the stream of hot water, Elsie opened the shower door and joined him. He was struggling to reach his back, so she took the soap and scrubbed his back, occasionally allowing her hands to wander elsewhere, too.

"Ooh, thank you, love," he said. "That's wonderful."

" _You_ washed _my_ back," she explained sensibly, "so I thought I'd return the favor. One of the myriad benefits of being married, you know: having someone to wash your back."

"Is that why you married me?" he questioned in feigned shock. "So that I could wash your back?"

"No," she answered seriously. "I married you so that _I_ could wash _your_ back. I love you, and I want to look after you. Your taking care of me in return is just an added benefit."

Her earnest reaction to his joking brought him up short. "You're the most selfless person I know, Elsie."

"Well, _I_ know someone _equally_ generous. Now, then. Let's finish up in here."

They finished washing and rinsed away the suds, stepped out of the shower, and dried off. Elsie slipped her robe on and wrapped her wet hair in her towel, and Charles wrapped his towel around his waist and combed his hair. He brought a chair into the bathroom while she prepared the shaving supplies. He situated himself on the chair with his head tipped back and a towel supporting his neck, and Elsie set to work. First, she rubbed a dollop of pre-shave conditioning oil into his skin and wrapped a hot, wet towel around his face and neck; even though his beard was probably sufficiently softened and his pores were adequately open after his shower, she thought the towel might relax him further. Next, she set the brush and shaving soap to soak in the bowl and ran the razor's blade along the strop a few times. Then, she whipped up the soap into a thick lather, removed the towel from her husband's face, and slathered the white froth over his cheeks, chin, jaw, and neck. When she could see only his forehead, eyes, nose, lips, and ears, she pulled his skin taut and drew the blade carefully over his face and neck in short strokes, rinsing the razor in the sink as necessary. Soon, his face was free of shaving soap, save an odd bit here or there. After the first pass, which had been _with_ the grain of his beard, she completed a second pass _across_ the grain and third _against_ the grain. Finally, she took the wet towel from earlier and wiped the last bits of remaining foam from his chest, ears, nose, and lips.

As Charles stood, leaned over the sink, and splashed some water on his face, he commented, "That was delightful. _Much_ more enjoyable than my shave yesterday at the barbershop."

"I should hope so!" Elsie remarked as she rubbed some post-shave soothing balm on her hands and then rubbed it into his face and neck. "Soft as a baby's bottom," she declared, running her hands over his smooth skin.

She stretched up, and he leaned down, and they shared a kiss. He pulled back to remind her, "You were going to let me brush your hair."

He dried her hair a little more with the towel, then set it aside, and found the hairbrush. She sat sideways in the chair he'd just vacated, and he drew the brush through her hair in long, gentle strokes. Even when her hair was completely smooth and free of tangles, he continued to brush. After a time, though, she stopped him.

She stood and picked up a tube from the counter. "You know … " she began, "I really don't want my skin to dry out. I'm going to try some of this divine-smelling moisturizer you've given me." She made to open the cap, as if she were going to apply it herself, knowing full well that her husband would appropriate the task to himself. And surely enough, he did just that.

"Do allow me, madam," he said. He untied her robe, pushed it from her shoulders, and hung it on a hook. Then he took the lotion, put some on his hands, and – to their mutual pleasure – studiously applied it to every square inch of her skin.

"Charles," she said when he was finished, "we'll need to get dressed and ready soon. But before we do, I'd just like to point out that from the time we leave this house until the time we enter our hotel room in Rome tomorrow morning, you and I are going to be surrounded by other people. Now, that's a very long time, dear. Perhaps we should take full advantage of our remaining time alone together to do certain things we can't do in the presence of others."

"That might be wise," he concurred, playing along. "Do you have anything … _particular_ in mind?"

"Oh, I have _a great many_ things in mind," Elsie said as she removed the towel from Charles's hips and led him to their bed.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Later, after they were dressed, Charles stood in front of the mirror, tying his tie, and Elsie stood next to him, putting the finishing touches on her hair and make-up.

"You know," Charles remarked, "as much as I've enjoyed our … _other activities_ … " – and here he stopped to smirk – " … this is very satisfying. The easy domesticity. Just going through our morning routine together, standing here watching each other in the mirror."

"I agree," Elsie told him. "It's very enjoyable. This is probably my third favorite aspect of marriage."

"Your third favorite?" he wondered.

"Yes. Number two is just lying in your arms all night," she explained, "and number one, of course, is the ' _other activities_ ' to which you just alluded."

She turned to him, tweaked his tie, and clasped her hands behind his neck. He held her by the hips and kissed her lightly, cautious not to disturb her hair or smear her make-up.

"All right, then," she prompted, patting his chest. "Let's go. Tom will be here any minute."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Tom picked the couple up from their house in the school's car and helped them load up their luggage for the trip. He took them to Elsie's flat, where they met Margaret, Becky, and Peter. Elsie packed up a few last-minute items, including those gifts from her hen party that were meant to be taken on the trip. Then Elsie, Charles, Peter, Becky, and Margaret attended late services in the chapel and thoroughly enjoyed Beryl's send-off luncheon. Beryl and Bill shared the news of their engagement with everyone present who hadn't already heard, and Beryl told Elsie the tale of Bill's romantic proposal. The Carsons said their goodbyes and thanks-yous, promising to call, text, email, and send pictures. Peter said he'd look after their flats and the house, and they told Margaret and Becky they'd see them in Scotland on the last leg of their journey. Then Tom drove the eager pair to the airport.

As they sat on the plane early that evening, waiting for take-off, Elsie leaned over and kissed Charles. "I can't wait!" she squealed joyfully. "First Italy, then Greece, and finally England and Scotland! I'll have you all to myself for three whole weeks! Well, _almost_ all to myself. I may end up being jealous of some Roman statues or Greek buildings if they garner more of your attention than I do."

"Never! None of those things can compete with my beautiful wife. But I hope I won't play second fiddle to some centuries-old manuscript in the British Library or some long-dead Scottish poet whose birthplace or tomb we visit!" he teased.

"Not to worry, love. All those things are merely pleasant diversions. I plan to devote the bulk of my time and energy to my dashing husband."

The pilot's voice came over the speaker, asking the crew and passenger to prepare for departure.

"Are you ready for our adventure, Mrs. Carson?" asked Charles, taking her hand.

"I do believe the rest of our lives together will be one great adventure, Mr. Carson," Elsie answered, leaning over and kissing him.

 **A/N This might be it for a while. I'll probably leave it here for the near future. I won't mark the story complete because I do intend to come back occasionally and revisit this story; I have a few future events in mind: some special occasions and just some ordinary days.**

 **I know some of you have asked to see some glimpses of the honeymoon, but I don't think I can write about it and keep it interesting enough. But if you want some idea of what they get up to, just imagine Charles dragging Elsie by the hand through some ruins, brochure in hand, like a kid on Christmas morning, exclaiming, "But this is where so-and-so gave such-and-such a famous speech way back in XXX B.C.!" and then translating some Latin or Greek quote for her. Then picture Elsie taking endless pictures of the tombstones of famous British writers and reading every word on every sign on every display at every literarily significant site they visit. That's how their days are spent. And their nights are spent making sweet, sweet Chelsie love. (As if you had any doubt!)**

 **Thank you so much for sticking with me throughout this whole adventure. I've lost many readers and reviewers since the beginning, but I'm wholeheartedly grateful to those of you who remain. Some of you have been with me since the start of the prequel, and I can't even begin to express my appreciation. Others have joined along the way, and I'm incredibly pleased to have you on board. Love to you all.**

 **If you feel so inclined, please do leave a review and share your thoughts with me.**

 **Bye for now, and I'll see you again somewhere down the line with some peeks back into this universe at married life with the Carsons.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N Here's my contribution for Week 4 of our Unofficial DA S7. Several reviewers to last week's supplemental edition said they'd like to see more of the Downton Academy AU. I hope this suits. This chapter actually takes place, chronologically,** _ **before**_ **last week's double date supplemental edition. But it doesn't really matter plot-wise; that was a separate side story, and no information from either chapter is necessary to understand the other.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing my S7 offerings, particularly the guest reviewers to whom I can't send personal thank-you messages. And thank you to all those who have shared their work for our unofficial, unauthorized, virtual S7! I, for one, am loving all these bits of Downton loveliness that pop up on Sundays!**

 _Sunday, August 7, 2016_

Every year in August, the Crawleys hosted "Downton Days." The annual affair, held on the first weekend of the month (Friday night and all day Saturday and Sunday), was meant as a send-off for the newly graduated alumni, a sort of "last hurrah" before they headed off to college. _All_ of the Downton alumni were invited, but most of those who participated were recent graduates. The celebration took place at the Crawley family's sprawling estate, and activities included rowing races on the lagoon, informal rugby and cricket matches, sack races and three-legged races, a water balloon toss, and a tug-of-war. Other popular attractions were a dunking tank, a high striker, a ring toss, a can knock-down game, a rubber duck race, lawn bowls, skittles, croquet, badminton, and a miniature golf putting green. The sporting games that required two large teams – cricket, rowing, rugby – generally pitted the alumni against the faculty and staff. And of course, in addition to the fun and games, there was enough scrumptious food to feed all of Chicago and its suburbs. There was always great fun to be had by all, and it was generally agreed that the yearly festivities were _not_ to be missed.

This year, Sunday evening found the alumni versus faculty cricket game in full swing. The score was close in the last innings. Charles stood at one wicket, bat in hand, and Peter stood at the other, holding the ball. After the two men playfully stared each other down, Peter bowled, and Charles hit the ball. It was a mighty shot that looked as if it might be a six. Charles took off running, as did Joseph Molesley, who was at the other wicket, but Claire made a fantastic catch in the outfield, snaring the ball before it hit the ground just shy of the boundary and dismissing Charles for the final out. The alumni team triumphed in the hard-fought battle.

After the cheering died down, Charles ran to shake Peter's hand.

"Well bowled, son!" said Charles.

"Well hit, Pop!" Peter replied.

"And you, young lady!" cried Charles as Claire approached. "That was a marvelous catch! Are you certain you're meant for the medical profession? We could use you on the faculty team."

Claire laughed modestly, but her reply was cut short as Peter lifted her off her feet, twirled her around, and kissed her. At the same time, Elsie jogged onto the pitch threw her arms around Charles.

"Nicely done, love!" she gushed. She kissed her husband and moved on to congratulate her son and the girl she hoped would someday be her daughter-in-law.

At first, Peter had been torn over whether he should play for the alumni team or the faculty and staff squad. He was legitimately an alumnus _and_ a faculty member. (A few former students who were current teachers also shared the same dilemma.) But when he invited Claire to this year's picnic and she expressed an interest in playing for the alumni team, his decision had been made. If Claire hadn't been playing, Peter would have been thrilled to play alongside his pop, as his new status as a teacher allowed. But the lure of playing on the same side as his sweet, beautiful girlfriend had been too strong for Peter to resist. Charles had teased Peter a bit, gently and lovingly, but he could hardly blame the lad.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A short time later, Elsie sat with Beryl under a tent, sipping lemonade.

"You've been back from your honeymoon for a month now, and we've barely seen each other!" Beryl lamented. "I've heard only bits and pieces about the trip. Fill me in."

Elsie smiled. "Oh, it was lovely. First, Charles dragged me all over Rome: the Colosseum, the Forum, the Vatican, the Pantheon, the Appian Way, the catacombs … endless statues, monuments, and museums … Then, he practically had to carry me around Athens. I thought I'd never make it to the Parthenon on the Acropolis! The heat was _so_ oppressive. Chicago certainly can be hot in the summertime, but the Mediterranean is _far_ worse! I don't know how we managed.

"But it was a relief finally to arrive in London. We spent a couple of days touring there and then visited a few other places: Oxford, Stratford-upon-Avon, Edinburgh … And we ended our trip by meeting Peter at Mum and Becky's. We even visited with Ma Burns one day. It was so good to see her. She and Charles got on well. I think she's genuinely happy to see me and Peter looked after."

"Ooh, that's lovely. I'm so happy for you, Elsie."

"And how about you and Bill? I hardly spoke to you at the engagement party. Any further plans?" Elsie wanted to know.

"We've set a date," Beryl informed her happily. "We were thinking it might be nice to have a wedding over the Christmas holidays, and we realized New Year's Eve will be a Saturday. So we thought, 'What better time?'"

Elsie couldn't help but share her friend's joy. "Indeed! Oh, Beryl, that's brilliant! What a wonderful way to start the new year!" She launched herself at Beryl and pulled her into a hug. "I couldn't be more pleased for you."

"I'm happy for us _both_!" said Beryl. "Last New Year's Eve we were celebrating your engagement, and this New Year's Eve we'll be celebrating my marriage! Who would have thought?"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Meanwhile, Charles, Peter, and Claire sat at a nearby table under the same tent. Peter was telling Claire how Charles had taught him to play cricket.

"Pop and Auntie Alice bought me my first bat when I was little. I think it was the first summer after we moved here, so I must have been about six. I could hardly lift the thing. It was nearly as tall as _I_ was!" Peter laughed at the memory, and Claire smiled fondly, trying to picture a young Peter unsteadily wielding a heavy cricket bat.

But Charles interjected proudly. "Nonsense! The lad was a natural, right from the start."

"No, you were just an extremely patient teacher, Pop," Peter demurred.

"Perhaps a little of both," Charles allowed. "I remember … When we first started, we could practice in the back yard of one of the flats because you were too small to hit the ball very far. But before long, I had to search around campus for a large enough open space so that you wouldn't break a window or dent someone's car!" They all laughed, and Charles turned to ask Claire, "And how did you learn to play so well, Claire? Surely, today wasn't your first time on the pitch!"

"My dad," Claire answered. "He used to play with my brother and me when we were younger. I haven't played in a long time, but you never forget, do you?"

"You never do," Charles concurred.

Just then, Elsie approached, having left Beryl when Bill came to collect her. Charles and Peter both stood to pull out a chair for Elsie.

"Will you join us?" asked Charles.

But she had a different idea. "Actually, I was going to ask you if you would take me for a nice stroll about the grounds. It's a lovely evening, and the coming sunset promises to be beautiful."

"All right," Charles agreed. "As long as these young ones don't mind our abandoning them."

"I should think they'd be glad to be rid of us boring old folks!" quipped Elsie.

"Never!" Claire assured them. "We're always happy to have you around. But please don't let us keep you from your walk. Peter and I can go over to the game booths. I'm curious to see whose turn it is in the dunking tank."

The foursome made their way towards the carnival games: past Joseph Molesley impressing Phyllis Baxter with his strength at the high striker; past William Mason winning Daisy Robinson some trinkets at the ring toss; past Thomas Barrow knocking down all the pins at skittles; past Charlie Grigg policing the stalls, marching up and down the row of booths, keeping a keen eye out for cheating; and past Robert Crawley himself sitting on the platform in the dunk tank … with Cora and his daughters lined up to try to hit the target and send him into the water. Peter and Claire stopped at the can knock-down booth, and Charles and Elsie continued on past all the activity and proceeded at a leisurely pace in the direction of the setting sun over the lagoon. They stopped when they encountered a weeping willow tree at the water's edge and stood underneath its boughs. Charles put his arm around Elsie; she leaned into him; and the couple admired the setting sun.

"Have you had a nice time?" he asked.

"I have," she declared firmly. "But I must say I'm exhausted. This whole weekend has been _too much_ fun, I think!"

"I'm afraid _so_! I'll sleep well tonight!"

"It's been nice to see some of the students one last time before they head off to make their way in the world," Elsie mused.

"Yes, it has. And it's been nice to see some of our older graduates returning – to catch up with them and to see what they've been doing," added Charles. "I've always liked this event. It's good of Robert and Cora to host it."

"Hmmm…. " Elsie let out a contented sigh and leaned more heavily on Charles, closing her eyes.

"Come on, love. You're tired. Winning the sack race really took it out of you. Let's go home."

"I'll agree on one condition," she stipulated.

"What's that?"

"You win me a prize at one of those games."

"It's a deal. I've had my eye on that bottle of wine at the ring toss. Let's go," he said. And they meandered merrily back to the games of skill and chance, where Charles did indeed win Elsie a fine bottle of wine before they said their goodbyes, thanked their hosts, and went home, utterly exhausted.

 **A/N Thanks for reading. Please leave a review. You might think reviews don't matter, but I will tell you that they most certainly** _ **do**_ **matter: this chapter probably would never have happened if reviewers hadn't requested it and encouraged me to write it.**

 **Please let me know if you spot any typos. I posted this in a hurry after giving it only a cursory once-over. Thanks!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N Here's my contribution for Week 7 of our Unofficial DA S7. (It's nearly a week late; tomorrow is Week 8.) A Halloween-themed game night at the Carson house! Enjoy!**

 _Saturday, October 29, 2016_

Peter and Claire arrived at Charles and Elsie's house around midday, bringing carry-out Chinese food with them for lunch. The two couples enjoyed a tasty and filling meal and then set to work. Peter and Claire, having planned the entire event in detail, had come by last night to start setting things up. They'd made significant headway, but there remained a good deal of work to be done today; for in their exuberance, the younger couple had organized quite an elaborate affair.

Elsie and Claire worked in the kitchen, preparing all manner of Halloween-themed treats.

"So how are things at the hospital, dear?" Elsie asked as the women arranged trays of treats.

"Oh, everything is just fine, thank you," Claire answered cheerily. "I'm enjoying the work, and the people are great. No complaints at all."

"And your parents are well?"

"Oh, yes! Never better. In fact, right now, they're getting ready to go to tonight's game*. I'm not sure who's more excited: Dad or Mr. Molesley!" The two women laughed at that.

"And how's everything at Downton? Peter certainly enjoys being back."

"Oh, school is going well, and it's a joy to know Peter's just down the hall. I'm so happy to have him home."

"I think he's just as glad to _be_ home! And teaching suits him, I think. He has a way with people," Claire commented.

"And so do you. It's why you make a great pediatrician; your patients must _love_ you."

"And _I_ love _them_! Kids are remarkable, aren't they? Even when they're sick or hurt, they're the sweetest, most loving little souls."

"They certainly are!" Elsie agreed.

"Yesterday, we had a little boy with a broken arm. Even in his own pain, he noticed the bandage on my finger and asked how I hurt myself. I joked that it was a monster bite. He didn't believe me, of course, and I had to confess that I'd cut myself slicing an apple. He told me he hoped it would be better soon, and then he warned me to be careful with sharp objects!"

Elsie laughed. "That's pretty amusing, considering the fact that you use scalpels and syringes on a regular basis!"

"Yes, well, fortunately, I don't think _that_ thought occurred to him. And since I wasn't going to be slicing into him or sticking him with a needle, I didn't see the need to point it out. No sense in worrying him unnecessarily."

"A wise decision."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Meanwhile, Charles and Peter were on the back porch. It was an ideal October day in Chicago: mostly sunny with a few clouds, a gentle breeze, and a perfectly comfortable temperature. The weather was just right for the last outdoor event of the season.

Charles was checking the grill, making sure everything was in order so that he could barbecue some chicken breasts and pork chops later, and Peter was setting up a mad scientist laboratory and bar. Peter, with his vivid imagination and knowledge of chemistry, was the ultimate Halloween bartender. He'd dreamed up all manner of recipes for bubbling, hissing, glowing, swirling, vapor-producing concoctions; some were potable, but others were just for show. Additionally, he'd purchased several dozen pieces of laboratory glassware for preparation and serving. Creeping vapors from dry ice and liquid nitrogen added to the effect, and a glowing plasma ball and some modified lava lamps enhanced the atmosphere. He'd also borrowed a plastic skeleton from the biology lab at school. Claire had used her creativity and anatomical expertise to help him make jars of items that were meant to be body parts. Olives, hard-boiled eggs, miniature sausages, beans, various types of pasta, and other objects were resourcefully altered to look like eyeballs, fingers, brains, and other parts of the human body. But as Claire was also a sensitive soul who was all too aware that mutilated body parts are no joking matter, she refrained from making any of the items too bloody or gory. The result of their labors was quite impressive.

"Pop, I need to ask you something," Peter said quietly at one point while the two men worked to set up some tables, chairs, and additional lights in the yard. From his hushed tone and grave expression, it was obvious that the subject matter was something he didn't want his mother and girlfriend to overhear through the open windows.

"Certainly, lad. What is it?" asked Charles, also moderating his volume and matching Peter's serious demeanor.

"Well, I know you're the right man to ask. You've done it twice, and both times, you were extremely successful. You proposed to two of the most wonderful women I've ever met, and they both said yes."

For just an instant, Charles didn't grasp Peter's meaning, but as comprehension set in, Charles nearly dropped a chair on his foot. He stared at Peter in amazement.

"Oh, come on, Pop! You can't be _that_ surprised! Surely, you must know I'm serious about Claire. I've never dated girls just for fun. Heck, I've never gone out with that many girls, _period_! But I happen to believe the purpose of dating is to find someone you want to marry. I've known Claire since we were five years old, and over the past several months, I've come to know her even better. I'm convinced she's the one."

Charles recovered his wits and enough to respond. "I'm sorry, son. Everything you say is true, of course. You've never been frivolous or impetuous. I was a little surprised when you first mentioned it, but now that I've had a minute to think about it, I do agree with you. Your Claire is a lovely girl. The two of are certainly familiar and comfortable with each other. And there's no doubt you're well-suited. If you're sure, then there's no reason to wait, I suppose. I certainly didn't waste any time with your Auntie Alice or your mother."

"But what if she turns me down?" worried Peter, and genuine doubt and fear were evident in his face and voice.

Charles put his hands on Peter's shoulders and gave him a meaningful, earnest look. "Peter Burns, you are the finest young man I've ever known. Only an extremely foolish girl would refuse you. And I can tell you – beyond _any_ shadow of a doubt – that Claire Dawes is the most sensible young lady I've ever encountered. You've chosen well, my boy. She'll not let you down."

Charles spoke with such conviction that Peter couldn't help but believe him. Thus reassured, Peter smiled broadly. "Well, then. I think you'd better give me the name of your jeweler – as well as some advice about what to say when I speak to her parents!"

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A short time later, the party was in full swing. Lively Halloween-themed games were in progress, both inside the house and in the back yard. Some people watched the Cubs World Series game*, taking place at Wrigley Field just a couple of miles away, on the television in the front room; and those who were watching at the right moment even caught a glimpse of Joseph and Phyllis when the camera panned the crowd. Peter's potion bar was a big hit, as was all of the food. William Mason had set up his sound system earlier, and throughout the evening, it played a special Halloween soundtrack he'd compiled just for the occasion. But the most enjoyable part might have been the costumes.

Peter's mad scientist outfit consisted of a bow tie, a lab coat with a pocket protector, a pair of safety goggles, and a crazy-haired wig. Claire's doctor costume was set of scrubs, a lab coat, and a stethoscope. Elsie, dressed as a librarian, wore her white-powdered hair up in a bun, a pair of round spectacles perched on the tip of her nose (they were attached to a string around her neck, of course), a long skirt, a high-collared blouse with a brooch at the neck, and a cardigan sweater. Charles, intending to be Julius Caesar, was clad in a white toga robe with gold trim, a red sash held in place by a gold belt, a laurel wreath, and leather sandals. Underneath the outfit, he was fully clothed, of course – in khaki trousers and a white dress shirt. After much resistance on his part, Elsie had talked him out of the sport coat and tie he'd initially intended to wear; but she hadn't been able to persuade him to wear just tan shorts and a white T-shirt underneath the robe. Richard and Isobel were attired as the couple from Grant Wood's painting, _American Gothic_. Beryl, wielding a spatula and wearing her apron and toque, was, naturally, a chef; and Bill, wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and his tool belt, was a handyman. John and Anna, to everyone's great amusement, pretended to be Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. Cora and Robert boasted perhaps the most inspired costumes of the evening. She wore a black dress with white accessories, and he wore a formal evening attire: a white shirt, bow tie, and waistcoat, with black trousers and tailcoat. They both had painted their faces, necks, and hands varying shades of gray, giving the eerily realistic impression that they were black-and-white film stars. Mary and Matthew were a cowboy and cowgirl. Edith and Bertie were a pirate and pirate wench. Sybil and Tom were the King and Queen of Hearts. The Spratts were a gangster couple, probably Bonnie and Clyde. Thomas had kitted himself out as the Joker from Batman. Sarah was a witch. Daisy and William were dressed as salt and pepper. Andy was a vampire, and Alfred wore a skeleton outfit. Ivy wore a cheerleader costume, and Gwen had dressed as Ygritte from _Game of Thrones_. Jimmy wore everyday clothes, but he carried a cardboard frame that was designed to look like the outline of a video clip on YouTube, bearing the caption: "Studly guy makes out with hot chick at party." He went around to all the young, single women holding the frame up and soliciting kisses. He was, however, less successful in his endeavor than his ambitious caption had predicted. William Molesley was a gardener, complete with coveralls, straw hat, boots, and pruning shears. And Violet Crawley, who would never deign to pretend to be someone else, attended the party as herself; for truly, she could think of no one else in the world she'd rather be. Earlier in the evening; when Jimmy had first seen her, he'd impertinently asked who she was supposed to be, and she'd responded, with utter disdain, "Why, _I_ am Violet Crawley! And just who do you think _you_ are?!"

As the night wore on, energy and activity dwindled, and guests began to leave. A few remained to help clean up. By midnight, the whole place had been to rights once again, and Peter and Claire said their goodbyes.

Elsie and Charles trudged wearily up the stairs to the bedroom, changed into their nightclothes, freshened up, brushed their teeth, and climbed into bed.

As they snuggled under the covers, Elsie told Charles, "I had a nice chat with Claire earlier. She's such a darling. I hope Peter knows what a treasure he has in her."

"Oh, I think he might." Charles tried to sound noncommittal, but Elsie caught the look in his eyes and the smirk on his lips.

She pushed herself up to see him better. "Charles?"

"Hmm?" he asked with an affected innocence that didn't fool her.

"Do you know something?"

"I know _lots_ of things, my dear. I'm a very wise man."

"Charles Carson!" She swatted his chest. "Did Peter say something to you?"

"Of course he did! How could he be here all day without speaking to me?"

"Stop being difficult! You know what I mean!"

At seeing Elsie's frustration, Charles relented, though he retained his playful manner. "Peter might have mentioned that he's thinking about proposing."

"He did?!"

"He did," Charles confirmed.

"Oh, that's marvelous! I'm so happy for them!" Elsie squealed excitedly. She smiled so broadly that the stretching of her face was almost painful.

"He was worried she might say no." Charles shook his head and chuckled. "As if _that_ would ever happen! But I think I was able to reassure him."

"Well, I don't like to take anything for granted, but I daresay I agree with you. Claire's not the kind of girl who would break his heart. I do believe she loves him as much as he loves her."

"I'm sure she does, and that's precisely what I told him."

"Thank you, Charles," Elsie said earnestly, and she kissed his chest, then rested her head over his heart.

Charles's brow wrinkled in confusion. "For what?"

"For always taking such good care of our boy."

Charles's eyes teared up at Elsie's use of the phrase "our boy." He'd had nearly a year to get used to the idea, but he still felt overjoyed by the fact that both Elsie and Peter considered Peter to be as much Charles's son as Elsie's. His heart swelled with pride, and then it nearly _burst_ with love when he further considered the fact that he might soon gain a daughter, as well.

"You needn't thank me, Elsie," said Charles, trying to speak around the lump in his throat. "As you know, looking after him is no chore. It's just what parents do because they love their children."

"But not all parents are as loving as you are," Elsie pointed out.

"Perhaps not all children are as easy to love as our lad is. I couldn't help it if I _wanted to_ ," reasoned Charles.

"Charles, will you please just accept my compliments and my thanks? I'll not listen to anyone diminish my man's great, big, loving heart – least of all my man himself!"

"And what about _your_ great, big, loving heart?" Charles asked as he kissed the top of Elsie's head. "You've accommodated a son and a husband, not to mention so many other family members and friends. Do you think you can find room in there for a daughter, too?"

"Oh, you daft man! Don't you know? She's already taken up residence!"

Charles chuckled and closed his eyes. "Of course she has."

Elsie smiled, yawned, and tucked her head under his chin before adding, "And I've set aside some space for grandchildren, too."

 **A/N *The Cubs actually did play game four of the World Series on Saturday night. Sadly, they lost that game, but happily, they went on to win the next three games AND the championship – in extra innings! – in a very exciting game seven in Cleveland on Wednesday night! Look for a Baxley celebratory supplementary edition soon!**

 **A/N 2 I'm posting this quickly, just to get it out there. There are probably at least a few typos. I will proofread more closely when I have a few minutes, but please let me know if you find any mistakes before I do.**

 **Please leave a review if you can. Thanks for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N Here's a fluffy little addition to my Downton Academy Universe.**

 _Saturday, December 24, 2016_

 _Christmas Eve morning, in the Carsons' bedroom_

"Good morning, darling," whispered Elsie as she ran her toes over Charles's calf and her fingers over his belly. "Merry Christmas Eve!"

"Mmmm … This is a lovely way to be awakened," he murmured sleepily. "More, please."

"More, you say? All right. I think I can manage that." She propped herself up on one arm and ran her free hand over his chest and neck while she nibbled his ear.

After several delightful moments, he rolled on top of her so that he could return her kisses and caresses.

"This is the best Christmas Eve I've had in a long time," Elsie sighed contentedly, enjoying her husband's attentions.

Charles ceased his ministrations and looked at her with an expression that feigned offense. "Might I remind you about _last_ Christmas Eve? I proposed, and you accepted! I thought _that_ was pretty _spectacular_!" he pouted.

She laughed. "Of course it was, you silly man! But last year, I didn't wake in the arms of my husband," she pointed out.

"No, but you did _fall asleep_ in the arms of your _fiancé_ ," he reminded her.

"Yes. On my sofa. For about three hours. Until we both woke with stiff necks, squashed limbs, and twisted, rumpled clothing."

"Well, I think we can do a little better than that _tonight_. This bed is far more comfortable than your sofa. And we're married now, so … " Charles waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh? And our new marital status will make tonight better than last year?" she challenged playfully.

"Certainly, it will!" he informed her. "Because _tonight_ I shall _kiss_ your neck, _massage_ your limbs, and _remove_ your clothing."

"Is that a promise, Mr. Carson?" asked Elsie provocatively.

"On my word of honor, Mrs. Carson," he vowed.

"Excellent!" She kissed his nose. "I shall hold you to it. In the meantime, we've much to do. Let's get moving." And she rose from the bed, leaving behind a husband who was very impatient for evening to arrive so that he could fulfill his oath.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

 _Later, in the afternoon, at the Northwestern Memorial Lurie Children's Hospital_

Elsie laughed as Charles exited Claire's office and presented himself to her for inspection. "Shall we send you over to the maternity ward?" She adjusted the pillow that he'd stuck in his trousers to increase his girth. "There. That's better. Now you look less like an expectant mother and more like a 'jolly old elf.'" She tweaked his beard and straightened his cap, and then he was ready.

"And … you're certain I won't appear foolish?" he asked anxiously as they made their way along to corridor to the common area in the hospital's pediatric unit.

"Of course not!" she assured him. "You were marvelous with the younger children at school last week. Don't tell me you're nervous _now_!"

"I _am_ nervous, _yes_!" admitted Charles. " _These_ children are … Well, they're _special_. They're all ill – some of them gravely so."

"Yes, they are," Elsie allowed. "And in my experience children who are at a disadvantage – _any_ disadvantage – are wise beyond their years. They've learned what truly matters. These children won't be worried about whether your suit looks real or whether your voice sounds genuine. They'll be thrilled that someone has come to spread some good cheer."

"You're right, of course. I just want to do my best for them."

"And so you shall," she soothed.

They arrived in the pediatric common room to see, circulating among the young patients, Claire, wearing white scrubs with a candy-cane print, a pair of reindeer antlers, and a glowing, bulbous, red nose. Seated on a chair in the middle of the assembled children and their families was Peter. He had just finished reading _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ and was now performing a few magic tricks – ones that Charles had taught him over the years. Claire's parents and brother watched from the side of the room. One of the youngest children noticed Charles and cried out, "Santa!" and the scene erupted into a marvelous sort of chaos.

Once everyone had settled a bit, Claire called for attention. "Thank you for coming, Santa," she said, speaking loudly enough so that everyone gathered could hear her. "Some of the children were afraid you wouldn't find us here, but I told them about that new app for your phone – the one that helps you find _all_ of the children, even when they're not at home."

"Oh, yes," Charles played along convincingly. "The old radar that I used to have in my sleigh worked well enough, but it was outdated and much too slow. The new app is far more efficient. I made it here with no trouble at all. The GPS located all of you and guided Rudolph and the team right to the hospital's heliport."

For the next hour, Charles entertained the young ones by asking them questions, telling them stories, handing out gifts, and singing with them. Claire had previously given Charles a "cheat sheet" for each child, with information about siblings, pets, hobbies, interests, and talents. Charles had spent days diligently poring over the information until he had memorized three or four facts about each child, and his efforts now paid off: the children and parents alike were amazed when Santa Claus asked Gary about his dog Chief, praised Lily for setting such a good example for her little sister Samantha, and congratulated Owen for winning an art show with his painting of a baseball glove.

After Santa spoke to each child individually, a surprise guest arrived. Charlie Grigg, dressed as an elf (his red and green outfit complete with pointy felt coverings for his shoes and a long cap with a bell at the tip), appeared in the doorway to the common room. Charles, sitting in his chair in the middle of the open space, had his back to Charlie, but the children could see him. Charlie put his fingers to his lips, indicating to the children that they should not alert Santa to the mischievous elf's presence, and he tiptoed up behind Charles. Charles, of course, knew precisely when Charlie had arrived: while the children did not _intentionally_ betray the elf, their eyes and their attention, naturally, were drawn to him. Charles continued the charade, pretending not to be aware of Charlie's arrival, and Charlie tapped Charles on his left shoulder. When Charles turned to look over his shoulder, Charlie shuffled over to Charles's other side and ducked out of sight. Seeing no one, Charles turned back to the children, and Charlie tapped Charles's right shoulder. Once again, when Santa turned to look, his elf hid from sight. Santa Claus turned back to the children, crinkled his brow, and shrugged his shoulders. The children were all giggling by this point, and they laughed even harder when Charlie began to play with Charles's hat. The elf gently tugged on the white ball of fur at the end … just enough to pull the cap slightly askew. As Charlie moved the white ball on the cap from one side to the other, Charles pretended to be only vaguely cognizant of the fact that something was going on. Finally, the troublesome elf pulled the soft fuzz ball straight up, and he pulled the cap right off Santa's head! Santa turned around in feigned anger, and his elf scampered off with his hat. Santa chased his wayward helper around the room, and just when Charles was about to "catch" Charlie, Charlie tossed the cap to Peter, who returned it to its rightful owner.

The children were breathless with laughter by now, and when the noise and commotion abated, Charles introduced the new guest. "Girls and boys, this is Dingleschnitz. He's my senior elf. As you've just seen, he can be quite a nuisance, but I keep him around because he's very good at ' _elfing_.'"

Just then, Peter crept up behind Charlie and swiped _his_ cap. Peter held the hat high above his head, and Charlie pretended to jump up to try to reach it. Then Peter passed it to Charles, and Charlie ran towards Charles. The trio put on a "monkey in the middle" act, in which Charles and Peter threw the hat back and forth and Charlie ran back and forth between them, trying comically and unsuccessfully to reclaim his pilfered headwear. After a while, Santa relented and returned the bell-tipped cap to Dingleschnitz.

Claire managed to silence the crowd long enough to make an announcement and extend an invitation. "Santa and Dingleshnitz, I'm sure you're very busy tonight, but I have a special treat for our young friends, and I wonder whether you might like to join us before you leave."

"Certainly! We can spare a few more minutes," Charles said.

"In that case, would you be so kind as to help distribute those oranges over there while I hand out these candy canes?" Claire asked.

"Of course!" Charlie agreed.

Claire began to circulate among the children, giving each one a candy cane. Peter grabbed the bag of oranges and began tossing them, one by one, to Charles and Charlie, and the two men threw the fruits into the air, passing the oranges between them. As more and more oranges were added, the scene became a double juggling act. Santa and Dingleschnitz moved about the room, flinging fruits high in the air, catching them and throwing them right back up, stepping over empty chairs and dancing around the ones occupied by the young patients. The delighted children rewarded the performers with a chorus of oohs and aahs. After a suitable time, Charles and Charlie stopped their juggling act and gave each child an orange. Claire and Peter walked through the room and cut a small hole in each child's orange. When all the children were ready, Claire instructed them to hold their candy canes carefully, break off the curved tips, and eat the broken-off bits. Then, demonstrating as she explained, she told the children to insert the remaining straight parts of the candy canes into the holes in the oranges and suck out the juice. The young ones followed her directions excitedly. Some of the children had enjoyed such orange-and-candy-cane treats before, but for others, the experience was completely new. Regardless of previous experience or lack thereof, the rookie sippers and veterans alike enjoyed themselves immensely: within the first minute of this exercise, nearly every child was a drippy, sticky, laughing mess.

Far too soon for anyone's liking, the afternoon's activities were drawing to a close. The hospital's setting had made it difficult for anyone present to forget just how ill some of the patients truly were, but for a short time, the children had set aside their physical pain, the parents had pushed away their emotional anguish, and the assembly had been joyful.

When it was time for Santa Claus to leave, Dingleschnitz's phone played "Jingle Bells" very loudly, and he pretended to answer it.

"Yes? … Yes. Right, then. We'll be right up," he spoke into the phone. Then he turned to the Santa and told him (loudly enough for all to hear), "That was Jinglefritz, up on the roof, with the sleigh and the reindeer. They're ready for us."

"I'm sorry, everyone," said Charles to the crowd. "We must be off. We have a busy night ahead of us. Goodbye, my young friends, and Merry Christmas to you all!"

As Charles and Charlie waved goodbye and left, cries of "Bye, Santa! Bye, Dingleschnitz!" and "Merry Christmas!" echoed throughout the room.

Peter, Elsie, and Claire and her family also said their farewells and left the patients to visit with their families.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

 _Later still, in the evening, at Peter's flat_

Peter was hosting a small Christmas Eve celebration, and two clusters of people sat in the living room of his flat at Downton. The men – Charles, Peter, Claire's father John, and her brother Michael – sat in four chairs grouped together and facing each other, nursing their brandy and chatting amiably. The women – Elsie, Claire, and her mother Helen – sat on the sofa, sipping champagne and admiring Claire's new ring.

"So, tell us all about it! I want to hear the whole story!" said Helen excitedly.

"I hope he was a gentleman and asked you properly," Elsie added.

"Of course he was, and of course he did!" Claire assured them both. And she began her tale.

 _After the caroling service in the school's chapel earlier that evening, Peter walked Claire through the school to the year one classroom. He turned on the lights, and they walked in._

" _Why are we here, Peter?" Claire wanted to know._

 _He didn't answer her question. "Do you remember the first day of year one?" he asked instead._

" _Yes, of course I do! I had to sit next to the headmistress's son. I thought I'd better behave myself, or else he'd tattle on me, and I'd find myself in real trouble!"_

 _Peter scoffed. "As if_ _ **you**_ _…_ _ **ever …**_ _ **mis**_ _behaved!"_

 _Claire laughed. "As if you'd ever '_ _ **tattle**_ _' – on_ _ **anyone**_ _!"_

" _I remember that I didn't like you very much at first. You knew all the answers and you seemed entirely too eager. But that opinion lasted … oh, only about an hour or so. I changed my mind pretty quickly. When that bratty kid – I can't even remember his name; he didn't last very long here – but when he knocked all my stuff off my desk, you helped me pick it up."_

" _I just happened to be sitting next to you," she demurred. "Anyone else would have done the same, you know."_

" _No, I don't believe that_ _ **anyone**_ _would have," he argued, "but_ _ **you did**_ _. And then you sat with me at lunchtime when I was too shy to talk to anyone else. And you charmed the others into including us in their games at recess."_

" _Well, my parents always taught me to be kind. Besides, it was easy to be friendly to you; you seemed so nice yourself."_

" _Yes, well, your parents have obviously taught you_ _ **a whole lot**_ _of good stuff, because look how you've turned out." He cupped her cheek with his hand and kissed her sweetly._

 _She raised her hands to his chest and smiled at him. "You're not so bad yourself, mister," Claire told him, and she kissed him back. But she was still wondering why they were standing in a classroom on Christmas Eve. "All this reminiscing – and the kissing, too … It's all very nice, Peter. But you still haven't told me why we're here."_

 _Peter smiled at her. "I'm getting there." Though the classroom was arranged differently from the way it was twenty-one years ago, he led her to the general area where their former seats used to be situated. "You see, the day I met you was momentous. After you came into my world, my life changed for the better. And so I thought this might be a fitting place to ask you an important question, and I hope your answer will once again change my life for the better."_

 _He encouraged her to sit in one of the too-small chairs. By now, she guessed what was coming, and she complied – breathlessly, tearfully – as he pulled a box from his pocket and knelt before her. He withdrew a diamond ring and held it out to her._

" _Claire Dawes, you're the most remarkable person I've ever met, and I love you very much. You would make me the happiest man in the world if you would agree to be my wife. Will you marry me?" He looked to her hopefully._

 _She jumped to her feet excitedly and tugged him with her. "Peter Burns, you are the sweetest, kindest man alive, and I love you, too. Nothing would make me happier than to be your wife! Yes, I'll marry you!"_

 _She threw her arms around him and kissed him enthusiastically, and he wrapped his arms around her and lifted off her feet._

 _After a moment, he laughed and set her down. "What about the ring? You haven't even let me put it on you!"_

" _Oh!" she cried. "Of course! I'm sorry. I'm just so happy that I'm not thinking straight."_

" _That's all right," he told her. "It makes me love you all the more to know that you're more excited about_ _ **me**_ _than you are about the ring."_

" _That goes without saying. But I don't mean to seem ungrateful. It's lovely."_

 _He slipped it on her finger while he explained. "I want you to be able to wear it all the time, even when you're seeing your patients, so I chose a smooth, rounded setting – one without any sharp edges that might scratch the little sweethearts*." He paused for a moment. "I was also thinking ahead. Maybe someday we'll have little sweethearts of our own, and … "_

 _She happily picked up his thought where he'd trailed off. "And I'll have no worries about wearing it when I'm holding and cuddling our own little ones. It's very thoughtful, Peter, and wise. And it's perfect – just like the man who gave it to me."_

 _And they spent many more minutes kissing and embracing, rejoicing in the promise of their newly engaged status._

"And that's how it happened," Claire finished.

"How lovely!" Helen remarked with tears in her eyes.

"I'm so happy for you both!" Elsie offered sincerely. "He couldn't have chosen better. The girl, that is – not the ring! The ring is lovely, too, but I was referring to _you_. He's clever one, that lad! And he's very fortunate that you said yes!"

"My girl's a smart one, too. She'd never turn such a good man!" insisted Helen, praising both her daughter and her future son-in-law.

Claire simply sat between her mother and future mother-in-law, basking in all their compliments and in her own joy.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Michael pretended to give Peter the third degree.

"And you _will_ take good care of my sister, won't you? You'll have to answer to me if you ever upset her," Michael threatened in jest.

"And I'll have some choice words for you, too, lad," said Charles with a wink.

Peter played along good-naturedly. "I'll treat her like the precious creature that she is," he vowed, "with nothing but love and respect."

John gently scolded Michael and Charles. "For goodness' sake, you two! That's _my_ job! _I_ 'm her _father_. If _I_ 'm not giving the man a hard time, then there's no need for _you two_ to grill him!"

"Aw, come on, Dad! Peter knows we're kidding," said Michael. "Look how happy she is! Have you ever seen her smile like that?"

"Not since she got that pet rabbit for her seventh birthday!" John teased. Then he looked thoughtfully at his daughter and admitted, "No, I think this is better."

"Well, I would _hope_ I come in ahead of a _rabbit_!" cried Peter in mock offense.

"I don't know … Nibbles had this fluffy, little tail, and when she scrunched up her nose and her whiskers, she was awfully cute … " Michael joked.

Peter punched Michael lightly on the arm, saying, "Thanks, buddy. I appreciate the vote of confidence. I thought I was going to like having a brother, but now I'm not so sure."

"I just insulted you, and you slugged me. That's how brothers show affection. I think we'll get along just fine," said Michael.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

 _ **Much**_ _later, at night, in the Carsons' bedroom_

Elsie and Charles lay snuggled up contentedly in bed while the blaze in their bedroom fireplace crackled.

"It seems the men in my life are partial to romantic Christmas Eve proposals!" commented Elsie as she snuggled closer to her husband.

"Well, if the woman is in a festive, jolly mood, it does increase the man's chances of a receiving a favorable answer." Charles pointed out.

She laughed. "Oh, Charles! You know that I wouldn't have turned you down on the dreariest, most depressing day of the whole year. And I daresay Peter would likewise be in no danger of rejection on any other day."

"Nevertheless, one would like to have the most favorable circumstances possible for such an important endeavor," Charles stated with affected pomposity.

"And I thought you were just being romantic! I had no idea your proposal was so carefully calculated," Elsie teased.

"Not ' _calculated_ ,' exactly. But it _was_ rather … _fortuitous_ … that I realized I loved you just before Christmas. Call me sentimental – or self-serving – but it's not only the woman who wants to have lovely memories of the proposal and acceptance. The man wants fond recollections, too. I'll never forget the look on your face when you said 'yes' last year. I can't even find the words to describe how happy you made me."

"Oh, darling, you _are_ a sentimental old romantic at heart! But you don't need any words … because the look on _your_ face told me that you were as happy as _I_ was." And she kissed him soundly.

"Mmm … " Charles murmured as he pulled away slightly. "Perhaps you're right. Talking is superfluous when there are other, _more effective_ methods of communication."

"Earlier today, I was promised kissing and massaging and … there was something about the removal of clothing," said Elsie. "Can we talk about _that_?"

"I suppose we can … if you wish. Let's start with the removal of clothing. I'm going to take this lovely little piece," he said, grasping the lacy hem of her nightgown and pushing it slowly higher, "and I'm going to slide it upwards, just like this." He earned himself an appreciative sigh from his wife. "And then I'm going to massage your soft, beautiful legs, just like this," he continued his little speech as he kneaded and caressed the flesh on her thighs, and she hummed her approval. "And at this point, the talking must cease because I'm going to need my mouth to lavish your gorgeous neck in ardent kisses," he declared. And Charles proceeded as promised. Elsie found that she, too, was rendered incapable of speech in the face of her husband's devotions, and for the rest of the night, any conversation was, indeed, superfluous.

 **A/N * For a picture of Claire's ring, see my tumblr page. I didn't wear my engagement ring for a period of several years when my kids were small. Sharp prongs are not practical around babies and toddlers.**

 **I know it's been a long time since the last update, but I hope some of you are still with me. I do plan to drop back into this world periodically to see what's going on with our favorite characters.**

 **(And for anyone who might be interested … I'm working on a longer period AU, but it won't be ready to post for some time yet. I'm just throwing that information out there so you know that I** _ **am**_ **writing.)**

 **I'm very grateful for reviews and all other forms of support. Thanks in advance.**


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